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A Play in Four Acts 

THE LADY BERTHA'S 
HONEY-BROTH 

Founded on Dumas' Story of the Same Name 

BY 

JAMES VILA BLAKE 



CHICAGO 

THE PRYOR PRESS 

1911 



COPYRIGHT, 1911 
BY 

James Vila Blake 



©GID 28015 



X. 



\ 



THE LADY BERTHA'S HONEY-BROTH 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA 



Count Osmond, Seventy years old in the First Act. 

Lady Bertha, Osmond's Wife, in whose line the 
title to the Castle and Lands of Wistgaw de- 
scends. 

Fritz, the Steward, Fifty years old in the First Act. 

RoLLO, the Gardener. 

Grun, the Nurse, Rollo's Wife after the First Act. 

Herman, a Child four years old in the First Act, 
Grandson of Osmond and Bertha, afterward 
known for a time as Torald. 

Baron Wilbold, for a time in possession of Wist- 
gaw. His own Castle and Estate is Eisenfelds. 

Hilda, Wilbold's Daughter, Twenty years of age. 

The Chevalier Hans, of Althausen. 

KoHLiBRAN, King of the Kobolds. 

YoHO, Kohlibran's Jester. 

Workmen, Farm-hands, Servants, Kobolds, 
Knights and Ladies. 



Scene, the Castle of Wistgaw, in the upper Rhine 

country, Germany. 
Time, early in Sixteenth Century. Twenty years 

elapse between the First and Second Acts. 



THE LADY BERTHA'S HONEY-BROTH 



ACT I— SCENE 1. 

SCENE— At the Castle of Wistgaw. The foreground is a 
lawn of the Castle park. Shrubbery in the rear. In 
the right middle distance is the front of a stately castle, 
nearly finished, lacking two or three courses of stone 
on the turrets. The park continues to right of castle 
and behind it. In the far background, middle, is a 
high wooded hill. At the extreme right front stands 
a sturdy tree, and at the left, not so far front, is also 
a very large tree encircled by a rustic seat. Late after- 
noon of early summer. 

Before curtain rises is heard men's chorus: 

Tell me the time o' the day, 

Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

Tell me the time 'o the night, 

Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

The time o' day 

When work's at height. 

The time o' night 

When work's away — 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

As the stanza closes the curtain rises, showing 
a large number of workmen busy building the 
castle; the stage is littered with tools, building 
stones, etc., including a rigging fixed on the 
castle for hoisting stone. The heavy front door 
lies on its length against the tree in the right 
front. The workmen continue singing two 
more stanzas, working as they sing the next 
stanza, and stopping to rest as they sing the 
last stanza, but remaining grouped just as they 
are when they cease work: 

ACT I— SCENE 1 



Tell me the workman's song, 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 
Tell me the baron's life, 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

The workman's song 

Of child and wife, 

The baron's life 

In castle strong. 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

Here's to the lord and the man. 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 
Here's to the man and the lord, 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

The man and soil, 

And lady and lord. 

And plenty stored 

Of wine and oil. 
Tell over, tell over, tell over! 

As the song ends, the men gradually come 
down front. 

First W. I say, bully fellow, there's some work 
for you. 

Second W. What's that? 
First W. Why, you make songs, they say. 
SiJCOND W. Oh, some rhymes now and then. 
First W. Well, add a verse or two to that song: 
there's more to be sung than lord and peasants. 
Second W. Ay? What? 

First W. There are strange doings hereabout — 

in our work on the castle. 
Third W. Ay, you may say that, indeed! Do 

ACT I — SCENE 1 8 



stones and mortar lift themselves up and lay 
themselves yonder? Tell me that, now! 

Fourth W. Hush, masters ! Softly ! Who knows 

how they be listening? 
First W. They? Who? 
Third W. The things, whatever they be, who 

work here at night. 
Fourth W. We've all seen it, in the morning. 
First W. Ay! but all feared to speak of it. 
Fifth W. I was here first this morning, and I'll 

show you what I found. 

The workman goes to a bush and from under 
it draws forth a finely made small wheelbarrow. 

Fifth W. This little barrow lay alongside the 

the big stone we got up onto the turret 

this noon. Look at it, mates ! Did ye ever 

see the like in a bit of ebony and ivory? 

The barrow is passed from hand to hand, and 
examined curiously, but taken and held timor- 
ously, and with hushed murmurs and much 
looking about. 

Fifth W. Now, what I want to know, is how the 

barrow came here and who's been working 

here. 

Enters Rollo, unseen by the workmen, and 
stands looking at them. 

Fourth W. Perhaps 'tis the devil and his imps. 

First W. Why not angels ? 

Fourth W. Oh ! devils come faster than angels. 

First W. Tut, man! That's as you may happen 
to be. 

Roi.i.0. What are you doing? I heard you sing- 
ing. That's lazy. Better work. 

9 ACT I— SCENE 1 



When Rollo speaks the fifth workman, to whose 
hands the barrow has been returned, hastily 
hides it behind him. 

Second W. Y' are always surly, Rollo. We've 

worked our day — 'tis home-time. 
Fifth W. Ay! our cows wait with full udders, 

and our wives are busy with supper. 
Enters Count Osmond, left, back. 
Roi.i.0. Better work, I tell you. The count and 

his lady are getting tired of waiting for their 

new castle. 
Count O. Yes, my good vassals, a little tired, 
may be, 

But not displeased. We know what loyal zeal 

You work withal. We give you love for love, 

And our warm thanks, good men. Yet we are 
crowded 

r the little cottage on the farm, and wish 

Our fine new castle. 

While Count Osmond speaks all the workmen 

huddle over to the right, with rustic bows and 
signs of respect. The fifth workman still con- 
ceals the barrow. 

Fourth W. Sooth, sir, so do we wish it for ye; 

but, asking pardon, we are growing afeared to 

work on it. 

Count O. Afraid to work? How's that? 

Enter, left, back, Lady Bertha, Grun the nurse, 
and little Herman, whom Lady Bertha leads by 
the hand. 

Fourth W. Shall my lady hear it, sir? 

Count O. Of course, good fellow. A woman may 

share anything fit for a man — except hardship. 

Speak out! 

ACT I — scene 1 10 



Fourth W. Well, sir, we be afeared the devil 

prowls here. 
Count O. Devil prowls? 
Fourth W. Ay, sir, o' nights. 
Count O. What does that mean? 
Third W. Witchcraft hereabout, sir. 
Count O. Witchcraft? 
First W. Why, thus it is, sir : For a month past 

as much work has been done on the castle every 

night as we have done by day. 
Third W. Ay, sir, just as much, by the measure 

of a hair. 
Fourth W. And what we want to know, or be 

afeared to know, is — Who does it? 

Count O. Do you hear that, Bertha? 

Be:rtha. I hear it, Osmond. 

Count O. The Kobolds ! 

Bejrtha. I am sure of it. 

Workmen. The Kobolds? 

Count O. Hark well, my vassals good, and you 
shall learn. 
My lady said to me, This castle old 
Now crumbles sadly, and it never was 
Sunny and pleasant; let us pull it down 
And build a better. Fain I would, quoth I, 
But I do fear the Kobolds, who have been 
Good and propitious to our house. Belike 
111 pleased they might be if we sacrificed 
These antique towers, which their quaint revels 
love. 

11 ACT I— scene 1 



My lady shared my fears ; but that same night 
When all the stars like twinkling golden tongues 
Of bells invisible had signaled twelve, 
And we awaked, the door swung wide, and en- 
tered 
A little troops of Kobolds, in good ranks, 
And at their head a grave ambassador. 
The envoy pointed to the wall, then bowed 
In old and courtly way, and led his guard 
Out by the door; but on the wall we saw 
Emerge letters of fire, which with a message 
Illumined both the chamber and our hearts. 
My lady Bertha, you can repeat, I think 
That flaming verse — 

Lady Bertha passes the child to the nurse, and 
comes forward. 

Lady B. I can, indeed, good men, 

And never can forget. The verse ran thus: 

We know your wish, and we approve: 
To build another hall be bold, 

But from the new house ne'er remove 
The virtues of your race of old! 

Count O. You see now, my good men, they are 
not imps 
Dark and wild and damned that work with us. 
But merry Kobolds, good friends of our house. 
That watch and ward and bless. 

Lady B. Ay, well they ward. 

Good neighbors all, look at your golden fields — 
For what's more golden to the eye or purse 
Than such bright harvests? And your vines 
behold, 

ACT I^SCENE 1 12 



Dangling their purple clusters heavy with wine. 
Is 't in the memory of the oldest of ye 
That e'er a field was blasted, cattle killed, 
Or barns set fire, in this dear favored place? 
If hot skies menace drought, the Kobolds blow 
From hills soft milky clouds to wash our lands 
With fatness. If the unruly nimbus lowers, 
Laced with foul gleams, the Kobolds puff away 
The thundrous threat, that elsewhere drops its 

harms. 
Ay, my good men, 'tis sure the friendly elves 
Top up by night what you have built by day. 
As saith my husband lord; and I will add 
They do 't for love of him, my lord, in whom 
The honor of our ancient house is bright, 
Undimmed, enlarged. 

Count O. If so, whose praise? 

But I assure you 'tis my Lady Bertha 
The Kobolds love better. 

First W. We know that, sir. Our Lord Osmond 

is good, very good, as good men are good; but 

our Lady Bertha is an angel from heaven. 

When my little girl was taken of the pox, they 

all fled ; but my lady came and soothed the child, 

and fed her with the right stuff, and saved her. 

Here the men exchange signs of respect and 
affection for the Count and lady. 

Fifth W. Where may these Kobolds live, sir? 

I've heard tell of them, and some say 'tis in 

yonder hill. 
Count O. 'Tis said so ; but you know as much as 

I. I never saw them before that midnight 

embassy. 

13 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Fifth W. Look, sir, at this little barrow which I 
found behind yonder great stone we lifted to 
the turret this noon. Is it a Kobold barrow ? — 
though what could they carry in the little thing ? 

The workman hands the barrow to the Count, 
who examines it curiously and passes it to 
Lady Bertha. 

Count O. There's no doubt 'twas left by our elfin 
friends. Look, Bertha, did'st ever see aught 
so elegant as this ebony work seamed with 
ivory ? 

Lady Bertha takes it, admires it, places it on 
ground and puts the handles into the hands of 
the child. 

Lady B. Now, little Herman, trundle the pretty 
barrow. 

The child wheels the barrow down stage and 
up again to Lady Bertha, while all watch him, 
and the men give many gestures and signs of 
delight. Then Count Osmond takes it from 
the child, who wishes to keep it and reaches 
out his arms toward it. The Count hands it 
to Rollo who, obeying the Count's gesture, 
places it on the ground before the workman. 
Rollo goes to the side of the nurse and talks. 

Count O. Take it, good fellow. 'Tis yours. 

Fifth W. But I'll give it to my little lord, sir ; he 
wants it. 

Count O. But my little lord can't have it. When 

he's old enough to want anything, he's old 

enough to learn he can't have everything. No, 

no ; it belongs to you, if to anyone — you found 

it. Take it home to your own babies. 

A murmur of gratification from the men, and 
signs of great satisfaction, and of admiration 
for the barrow. The workman then reaches 

ACT I— SCENE 1 14 



down to pick it up, but it moves just out of 
his reach; he takes a step and reaches down 
again, but again it moves a little away. This 
time the workman steps cautiously, reaches 
slowly, and makes a sudden grasp at it ; but 
it rolls off stage, the workman pursuing it 
lustily. All the other workmen first are aston- 
ished and then laugh derisively, and just as 
they cease the air is filled with high-pitched 
musical peals of laughter. The workmen gaze 
about and at each other, with wonder and 
some signs of fear. 

Count O. (To Lady Bertha) The Kobolds. 

Workmen. The Kobolds ! 

Count. O. Ay, they hke a bit of fun, these friendly 
Drolls ; but they're good pixies — no harm in 
them. 

Re-enters the workman, breathless. 

RoLi.0. (To Grun) I'll get a sight of these Ko- 
bolds. 

Grun. Better let 'em alone, Rollo. They might 
pinch you. 

RoLLO. No — I'll spy on 'em. 

Fifth W. Did ye see it, masters? And hear the 
laughing? And then it took a leap into the air 
and went out with a puff of light, like a candle. 

First W. Perhaps it would have stayed with my 
little lord. 

Count O. No, no; 'twas sure to go back to its 

owners — so is everything at last. 
Fifth W. Well, they use it well for us, anyway. 

(Glancing at the castle and around at the 

stones and tools.) 
Workmen. Ay, that's true enough. 
Lady B. Pray you, good men, believe my lord and I 

15 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Have grateful heart's-ease that you build for us 
This castle so enriched, stately and strong. 
But 't has been long a-building ; sooth we now 
Can hardly wrestle with our lively fever 
To enter and possess our noble house ; 
And Time, methinks, foots no expense of days. 
Nor many hours, for what remains o' the work. 

First W, 'Tis so, my lady, for the outside ; but in- 
side there's something to be done yet. 

Lady B. Good neighbors, hark ! May we not bar- 
gain kindly ? 
On whate'er day ye tell me the castle's ready, 
So it be not delayed beyond a sennight, 
I'll give to all the village a Honey-Broth, 
And I will bind myself, and all who here 
Come after me, to do the same each year 
On the same day, forever. What say you, men ? 
Will you not strain a little and hurry a little. 
And work the harder these few days to found 
So happy a holiday for all your lives. 
And for your children's children's lives for aye ? 

First W. Ay, that we will ! Eh, masters ? 

Workmen. We will, we will! 

The stage darkens a little. 

Lady B. Thanks, my good neighbors all. I'm sure 

ye'U try 

Your best i' the work, not for the feast, but me. 

But evening falls; our little Herman sleeps 

Early, to keep these roses bright. Farewell ! 

Exeunt Lady Bertha, the child, nurse, and 
Count Osmond. 

First W. D' ye hear that, masters? A Honey- 
broth ! 

ACT I — SCENE 1 16 



Second W. Ay! That's a whole good dinner — as 
when one says, Take pot-luck with me. 

Third W. Ay ! And pot-luck at the castle is mighty 
good luck. 

Fourth W. As everyone knows. Let's to it, mates, 
and hustle. Belike we can end all in two or 
three days. 

Fifth W. Our Lady Bertha is a sweet soul — ^bless 
her! 

Exeunt the workmen, leaving the stage vacant. 
The evening has been coming on, and now it 
darkens much, as the workmen depart; but 
suddenly lights up again by reason of a burst 
of brilliant moon from behind thick clouds, 
which clear away. Enters Rollo; he looks 
about cautiously; finding he is alone, he casts 
about for a hiding place; observes the door 
leaning against the tree, goes to it and settles 
himself comfortably behind it, meantime 
speaking : 

RoLLO. I'll see 'em, or say my eyes are no better 

than pits. That way they come — from the hill 

yonder — so the folk say. Yonder door's the 

thing. Hough ! a warm day ! I'll make me easy 

anyway. 

Rollo takes off his outer coat, and rolls it up 
into a pillow, which he places under his head 
as he lies down on the ground, hidden by the 
door from up-stage, but visible to the audience. 
Soon he falls asleep. Enter the Kobolds, in six 
lines, single file, from three points on right and 
three on left up-stage, tripping in sprightly 
manner, all coming to a halt at a central place, 
leaving vacant a small circle. Then enters 
Kohlibran and comes forward into the circle. 
All of the Kobolds close in a group around 
him in front and fall on one knee, Yoho has 
entered after the King at a little distance and 
now stands a little behind and to one side of 
Kohlibran. 

17 ACT I— SCENE 1 



KoHi.. Now harken, all my jolly Drolls ! 
When here the moony night unrolls 
Her silver curtain 'gainst the sun, 
'Tis then our gambols have begun; 
But now, though glinting moon hath spun 
Her silvery gauze, and day is done, 
To-night we must not play, but work, 
While yet the elfin shadows lurk 
Before the dawn. 

Here a long, harsh snore from Rollo causes the 
Kobolds to start and stare about and at each 
other, and the King stops and stares a moment. 

Kohl. I say before the dawn must we 
Complete this castle fair to see 
In every part. 

Here Rollo emits another snore still more noisy 
and prolonged. 

Kohl. What is this unbeseeming sound? 

Up, elves, and ply the place around, 

To find what monstrous thing is wont 

To perpetrate this shocking grunt, — 

If there be gross or mortal eye 

Ventures our quaint rich rites to spy. 

The Kobolds run about, searching, and Rollo 
is found, roughly wakened, dragged out and 
rolled and hustled and pinched, till at last he 
gets on his feet, and runs away roaring lustily, 
with all the Kobolds in pursuit. 

KoHL. Kobolds, return ! Let go the peeper — 

A wheezy fool, a silly sleeper. 

(To Yoho) My nimble elves must work to- 
night. 

To have the castle done ere light. 
Yoho. (Aside) Work? I'll run, 

ACT I— SCENE 1 18 



Till after work's begun. 

Re-enter the Kobolds; exit Yoho, stealing out. 
KoHi,. Ye hustled him and pinched him well — 
He'll peep no more, I dare foretell. 
But now to better things give place : 
Ye know the Lady Bertha's grace 
Hath pledged a Honey-broth apace 
To all her happy peasantry 
Whene'er the castle finished be, 
And binds herself and all her race 
That e'er inhabit in this place 
To give the banquet every year 
On that same day with generous cheer. 
Now o'er and through the castle go 
And use your merry magic so 
That when with dawn the turrets turn 
To red, as if the stones would burn. 
The castle, like a sculptured urn, 
Inside and out shall perfect be 
For Bertha and her lord to see. 
Away and work ! 

The Kobolds all go crowding merrily into the 
castle by the doorway, leaving King Kohlibran 
alone. Enters Yoho, in a sprightly, gay and 
gamboling manner, and bows before the King. 

KoHi,. What, nonny, what ? Our elves are all 
Hard at their work in yonder hall. 
And you come idling in? 

Yoho. Unkie, work be hanged ! 

Kghl. Tut, tut, Jack-pudding ! You'll be whipped 
for your face, some day. 

Yoho. Why spoil a wise fool with work, Unkie ? 

1» ACT I— SCENE 1 



KoHi.. Wise fool? What, what! Cold fire, hot 
snow, 
Dark light, light dark, and so-is-not-so ? 

YoHO. Which is wise, to hate or to love — tell me 
that, Unkie. 

KoHi.. To love, of course. 

YoHO. Mark now: The wise fellow hates folly, 
but the fool loves wisdom — a wise fool he ! Oh, 
Unkie! 

Kohl. Ha! hum! 

YoHO. And look you, Unkie, I know that a hun- 
dred-pound is a hundred-pound. 

Kohl. Ay, that's wise enough. 

YoHO. Yes — a hundred-pound wise. Now, as I 
weigh not a hundred-pound with all this little 
body, my wisdom is more than all the mass 
of my folly. Oh, Unkie! Shall I tell you, 
Unkie, how to know your courtiers ? 

Kohl. Ay, babble that, now. 

YoHO. Why, thus it is : He that is no bit of a fool 
is a big sum of a villain. 

Kohl. Ha ! 

YoHO. Your fool is the only ripe thing, Unkie. 

Kohl. How make you that ? 

YoHO. Tell me, Unkie, do you know everything? 

Kohl. No, indeed. 

YoHO. Then is your wisdom yet raw, like crabs 

half stewed. But the fool knows nothing; 

therefore he is cooked through, and a ripe dish. 

Oh, Unkie! 

ACT I — ^SCENE 1 20 



Kohl. You shall not escape work. Get you to the 
woods and fetch me a good large evergreen, to 
put on top of the tower. 

YoHO. The tower? 

Kohl. Ay, the tower, for good luck, and to keep 
off bad spirits. 

YoHO. Unkie, that's twaddle. 

Kohl. What, sir? 

YoHO. Is not twaddle nonsense? And nonsense 
is folly ; and folly is fool-work ; and sure what's 
laid on me is fool-work. Oh, Unkie! 

KoHL. Go do it, rogue. 

YoHO. But, Unkie 

KoHL. Quick! Jump! Begone! 

Exit Yoho. Here follows a pantomime of 
some length. Kobolds emerge from inside onto 
top of tower of the castle and one comes from 
the door, mounts a stone, and it at once flies 
up to the top of the tower, where the others 
receive it and set and mortar it in its place. 
Then comes forth one wielding a huge paint 
brush and brings to the King a large surface 
of paper painted, showing a tint proposed for 
some interior walls. The King examines it in 
several lights, close to it, and from a little dis- 
tance, and rejects it, shaking his head and ges- 
ticulating with strong disapproval, and the Ko- 
bold returns into the castle crestfallen. Then 
one flies down from the tower, mounts a stone, 
which flies at once up to the tower as before. 
Then one comes out with paint brush and an- 
other tint on large surface, which he presents 
to the King, and now the King approves it, and 
the Kobold returns happy. Then one flies 
down from tower for a stone and the stone 
flies back with him, all as before. Then comes 
one from castle with huge brush, as before, 
showing the King the approved tint and an- 
other to go under it, which the King approves, 

21 ACT I — SCENE 1 



and the Kobold returns. Then come forth two 
Kobolds gesticulating at each other in a bicker- 
ing and quarrelsome way and soon, on their 
way to the King, fall into a scuffle and fisticuff, 
which the King discovers, and speaks : 

Kohl. Ye naughty elves! What! will ye fight? 

And quarrel in our royal sight? 

What law have I pronounced so plain 

As that ye shall not fight, on pain 

Of our most royal stern displeasure, 

And punishment in proper measure? 

So, stand ye up, one here, one there; 

Now, fight away, and bravely square, 

Not at each other, but the air. 

That's well! Keep up the pretty fight. 

Good sooth, it is a proper sight! 

I think I'll teach ye all at last 

'Tis love that holds our kingdom fast, 

And every tongue of spite shall fly, 

As flame is canceled in the sky ! 

Now, exercise ! 

The two Kobolds thus commanded take their 
places about a rod apart, facing the audience, 
and continue to square and fisticuff the air. 
Then an elf flies down, and mounts a stone 
which flies up to the tower, as before. Then 
two come out of the castle, to go to the King, 
but seeing the two elves fighting the air, they 
stare a moment and then fall into ecstasies of 
jeers and laughter; which the King discovers, 
and speaks : 

KoHiv. Ye naughty elves! What! will ye jeer 

At your unhappy fellows here? 

I'll move you to a kinder play; 

Step in between; now, laugh away! 

Since ye will mock so fine and fair. 

Now cackle to the empty air, 

ACT I — SCENE 1 22 



As gentler brooks with better grace 
Prattle into a leafy space. 
Come, giggle! 

The two take place between the other two who 
are fighting the air, and laugh foolishly into 
space. Then once more an elf flies down from 
the tower, mounts the last stone and it flies up 
to its place and is set. Enters Yoho, carrying 
on his shoulder a large evergreen tree, and 
staggering under the weight of it. 

Yoho. Here's your evergreen, Unkie. 

Kohl. Ha ! Good ! Up with it onto the tower. 

Yoho bestrides the tree which then flies up 
with him to the tower and is received there 
by the Kobolds and erected on the turret. The 
elves come crowding from the castle and sur- 
round the King, and then all on the tower come 
flying down, and together signify by signs that 
the work is done and the castle finished. Mean- 
time the moon, with which the stage has been 
brilliant, has ascended toward the left and 
gone out of sight, and the stage darkens a 
little. At same time a very faint streaking of 
dawn appears over the hill in the background, 
and this gradually grows brighter. The King 
speaks to Yoho, who at once, in his own man- 
ner, communicates to the four elves under pun- 
ishment that the penalty is ended, and they 
join their fellows around the King. 

KoHL. Fine spirits, ye have nobly done; 

But now behold the golden sun. 

With all his rainbow garments on, 

Peeps o'er the ridge, and soon he will 

Come tumbling down the beamy hill 

To light the fields that now with thrill 

Of coming morning wake and wave. 

So hie we to the Kobold's cave; 

We leave a lightsome day in troth. 

For Lady Bertha's Honey-Broth! 

23 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Exeunt Kohlibran and all the Kobolds. The 
morning light deepens and the turrets burn 
red in the glow. Enters the first workman, 
who stares around at the ground and at the 
castle. Enters then the second workman. 

First W. What say you to this, bully boy? 
Se^cond W. All the big stones gone? 
First W. Ay, and the turret finished. 
Second W. What say, indeed? 

Enter all the workmen, right and left. 
Third W. Early to work, mates. Sooth, my 

mouth waters for the Honey-Broth. 
Fourth W. Where be the stones? 
First W. Up on the tower. 

All the workmen stare at the tower, and at 
each other, and there is a general loud murmur. 

Fifth W. The Kobolds! 

All. The Kobolds ! 

SeJcond W. Have they finished the castle inside? 

Third W. We'll see that. 

All the workmen huddle into the castle. Enter 
Rollo and Grun. 

Grun. I told you so. What would you be spy- 
ing for? 

RoLLO. Devil take your telling! Perhaps that's 
what brought 'em on me. 

Grun. Was that what made you turn Jack Spy? 
I warned you. 

RoLLO. They lit on me like hornets, or like lob- 
sters with their pincers. There's not an inch 
o' my back or thighs or calves but's sore-blue. 

Grun. Well, better let alone what lets you alone. 

ACT I— SCENE 1 24 



Enter the workmen from the castle, with gen- 
eral exclamation. 

First W. Done, every inch! 

Se;cond W. What will the Lady Bertha say? 

Third W. Ah! the Honey-Broth, this very day! 

Eh? 
Fourth W. So said our Lady. 
Fifth W. Not a stroke left for us but to hang 

the big door. Come, we'll whip it into place 

in a thrice. 

RoLLO. Ay, do: it got me whipped enough. 

The workmen lay hold of the heavy door, drag 
it to the castle and hang it on its hinges at the 
portal. Meanwhile enters Lady Bertha, sur- 
veying the workmen, and then they come to 
her respectfully. 

First W. My Lady, your castle is finished. 

Skcond W. Ay, outside and inside. 

Third W. Ay, and all swept out. 

Fourth W. Sooth, so; all left as clean as a 

whistle. 
Fifth W. And we be main glad for you, my 

Lady. 
Bertha. And you found it thus this morning, 

my good men? 
First W. So it was. 

Second W. Ay, when we got here at sun-up. 
Third W. And we be a-thinking 'twas your 

friends, the Kobolds, did it. 
Bertha. Indeed, indeed, my men, but this is good ! 

And, sooth, I am right sure 'tis Kobolds' work. 

The quaint sprites are our friends; and look 
where they 

25 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Have perched an evergreen for gentle omen. 
Yonder red turret, fading now, will burn 
Thus always with the glad-returning sun, 
Like as our hearts, there roofed, will glow and 

nod 
Unto the blessed day-spring. Thank ye, all, 
And thanks to the good sprites. Osmond, my 

lord! 

Enters Count Osmond. 

Bertha. Look, look, my lord, my husband, and 

my love. Look, look, 'tis done, in this last 

night, 'tis done! 

Count Osmond surveys the castle, Bertha and 
the workmen. 

Count O. The Kobolds, Bertha! 

Bertha. Ay, my lord, most sure; 

So have I said, and all the workmen say 

Surely the Kobolds. 
Count O. A beaming day for us, 

A royal day ! Have yet you stept inside ? 

Bertha. Not yet: come, now we will go in to- 
gether. 

Count Osmond and Lady Bertha enter the 
castle. Rollo and Grun stand apart talking, 
and he makes rustic familiar love to her. 

First W. Mates, let us take down yon lift and 
tackle. 

Third W. She said naught about the Honey- 
Broth. 

Second W. Get along with your greedy paunch. 
Do your work first. 

Fourth W. So! When did Lady Bertha forget? 

ACT I— SCENE 1 26 



Fifth W. Down with this rigging. 

The men take down the derrick and tackle, and 
remove it off the stage; meanwhile RoUo and 
Grun converse. 

RoLi.0. Come now, pretty Grun, say the word — 

there's a honey ! 
Grun. Court a little longer, RoUo. 
RoLLO. I've been after you these two months. 
Grun. And there's ten-months more in the year, 

my lad. 
RoLLO. Ten months! 
Grun. Did ye come courting before ye chose? — 

tell me that. And why should I consent at a 

look? 

RoLivO. Will you leave me dangling for ten 

months ? 
Grun. If ye call it dangling, I'll let ye hang a 

main time, thank 'e. 
RoLLO. O, now, Grun, come, be as pretty as you 

look, and say yes. 
Grun. And how pretty do I look? 
RoLLO. As pretty as — as — as — 
Grun. Ay, now, as what? 
RoivLO. As every woman would be, but no other 

is. Say yes, — there's a honey. 
Grun. I'll think of it, Master Rollo. 
RoLLO. Think of it? 
Grun. Is that bad? Then I'll say I'll not think 

of it. Is that better? 

Enter from castle Count Osmond and Lady 
Bertha. The workmen now gather around the 
Count and Lady. 

27 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Count O. Good vassals all, well have ye done, 
all well, 
And th' Kobolds — ^gentle sprites — 
Roi.i.0. (To Grun): Gentle? Ha! ha! 
Count O. They too, with antique holy sorceries 
Have fellow-wrought with you; our house is 

builded ! 
And now expect what my dear lady promised. 
Bertha, speak to our men. 

Bertha. That will I merrily. 

The edge of morn severed my veil of sleep. 
Like soft silk ripped, and I peeped through the 

shreds. 
Sweet the low silver light, the high gray sweet, 
Sweet the red turret's flush, sweet the birds' 

song, 
The spilled brook sweet, and sweet the rustled 

leaves ; 
But not the low silver light, nor the high gray. 
Nor the red turret's flush, nor song of birds, 
Spilled brook nor rustled leaves, to me were 

sweet 
As evermore they will be from this house 
Your hands have wrought. And now for the 

Honey-Broth ! 
Hie you all home — make up a holiday! 
Hither bring sweethearts, daughters, wives 

the whole 
Gay village to my noon-day festival. 
Away ! There's much to do. 

Exeunt the men with exclamations of pleasure. 
Bkrtha. Grun, send me hither the cooks, and 

ACT I— SCENE 1 28 



faithful Fritz. 
Exit Grun. 
Bertha. Run, Rollo, fetch me hither the hunting- 
tables 
From the old hall, quickly, and set them up. 
Exit Rollo. 
Bertha. My dear lord, thou'rt a scholar, versed 
r the law 
And able with sound terms. I pray thee, go, 
Draw me the deed to make the feast perpetual. 
And to the parchment put my ancient seal. 
With your good will. We'll make a happy day ! 
Exit Count Osmond. Enter three cooks. 
Bertha. Ah! good my merry knights o' the pan 
and ladle. 
Ye must bestir yourselves : I give a banquet. 

First C. That's naught uncommon, my lady. 
Bertha. Ay, but 'tis this very day. 
Second C. That's a little close. 
Bertha. This very noon, or near it. 
Third C. This noon? 

Enters Roll carrying a long table-board which 
he leans against a tree, and exit. 

Bertha. And to the village-folk. 
First C. The village? 

Bertha. To all the folk, both men and women, 
I give 
A Honey-Broth — I think you've store of honey. 

Second C. We have, my lady, but 'twill consume 

it all. 
Bertha. Buy more; or if no more's to have, 

what matter? 

29 ACT I— SCENE 1 



Third C. For so many we have scare food enough. 
First C. Nay, not enough ; 'twill take all, and fall 

short. 
Bi^RTHA. Use all, and sauce it with your skill to 
eke 

It out. I'll send our steward to purchase more, 

Whatever may be had. Be lively men — 

I do depend upon you. 

Exeunt the cooks. Enters Fritz. Also Rollo 
with another table-board which he places as 
before, and exit. 

Fritz. Lord bless your kind ladyship ! 

Bertha. Ah ! then you know the happy news, my 
Fritz— 
The castle's done, I give my folks a Honey- 
Broth. 

Fritz. Ay : Lord bless you, I say ; 'tis a merry 
deed. 

Be:rtha. But we've not food enough in hand, my 

Fritz — 
So the cooks say. Buy all the people have, 
I mean what all they'll sell, pleasant to eat. 
Then hie with the best horse and cart to the 

town — 
'Tis but a scant four miles — and fetch big 

stores. 
You'll hurry, Fritz? 

Fritz. To my best, my lady. 

Exit Fritz. Enters Count Osmond. 
Bertha. My good, dear lord, all's going very well. 
And have you drawn me now the deed per- 
petual ? 

ACT I-^SCENE 1 30 



I see you have — read it — rm like a child 
With all this fond impatience. 

Enters Rollo with table-board and places it, as 
before. 

Bkrtha. Three tables — good! Now Rollo, the 
fourth one quickly, 
And with you fetch some lads to set them up — 
And — O, yes, send Grun to me. 
Exit Rollo. 
Bertha. O, good my dear lord, if I could but utter 
How it doth gladden my soul to make this feast 
For our good vassals — they are good vassals, 
Osmond. 

Count O. None better. Bertha. 

Enters Grun, 
Bertha. Grun, how's little Herman? 

So! fast asleep; that's well. Now harken, 

Grun: 
Rollo will be here presently with board 
Like these, and lads to set them up anon. 
Direct the work for me. Place here the longest, 
r the middle, end to end, extending far 
This way and that, both sides, out under the 

trees. 
At the mid-hne my lord and I will sit; 
Thence place the other tables spreading 

obliquely 
From each side of our posts, my lord's and 

mine — 
Thus: 

While saying this to Grun, Lady Bertha has 
shown her by steps and gestures where to 

31 ACT I— SCENE 1 



place the tables that they may be arranged 
thus : 




Enters Rollo carrying the fourth table-board, 
and with him enter several serving men carry- 
ing the wooden supports to the tables. Under 
Grun's direction these are set. Meantime Os- 
mond and Bertha go to the tree at left and 
sit on the circular bench, and Osmond shows 
and reads the deed to Bertha. Exeunt the 
serving men after arranging fhe tables. Enters 
Fritz. 

Fritz. All is done as my lady directed. I gath- 
ered plenty, and the cooks are well advanced. 
All will be ready in good time. And the folk 
will come soon. I saw them standing in little 
groups by their door-steps and on the road. 

Count O. Thanks, my good Fritz. Our Steward 

will sit next us at the table. And Fritz, I'll 

have nothing less than a grand march before 

dinner. You know what 'tis. Instruct Rollo 

and Grun how to lead the people after us; 

Rollo the men and Grun the women. We will 

go make us ready for our guests. 

Exeunt Osmond and Bertha. Enter the serv- 
ing men who set the tables with china, glass 
and cutlery. Fritz instructs Rollo and Grun; 
this in silence, music meanwhile. Then enters 
a serving man. ^ 

Man. Master Steward, the people are waiting at 
the gates. 

ACT I — SCENE 1 32 



Fritz. Let them come in. 

Exit serving man. The setting of the tables is 
completed. 

Fritz. Let the cooks know, and be all of you ready 

to serve. 

Exeunt serving men. Enter the people, right 
and left, filling the space between the tables, 
but massing into two groups with a clear space 
between in which are Rollo, Grun and Fritz. 
Then Rollo and Grun mingle with the people, 
telling them how to march, etc. Enter Osmond 
and Bertha richly dressed. They come down 
the middle clear space and there separate, Os- 
mond going up on the right and Bertha on the 
left, through the people, greeting them. Then 
reuniting up stage they come down the 
middle, the people following closely in couples, 
led by Rollo and Grun. Fritz takes stand in 
middle extreme front and parts the people into 
single files following Osmond and Bertha. 
Then follows a march of intricate figures and 
graceful involutions. When the march ends 
Osmond and Bertha take their places at the 
middle of the long table. Fritz, Rollo and 
Grun signify to the people that they shall take 
seats at pleasure, which they do. 

Fritz. My lord, there are many late arrivals at 

the gates. 

Count O. O, bid them all welcome. There is room 
at this table on both sides. (The Count indi- 
cates by gestures places to right and left of the 
table beyond stage-setting.) 

Fritz. Rollo and Grun, go welcome them and 
place them. 

Exeunt Rollo and Grun. The Count and Lady 
rise and wave welcome in both directions, right 
and left; then the lady Bertha is seated again, 
but Count Osmond remains standing: 

Count O. Good folks and neighbors, the Scrip- 
ture saith, by the mouth of St. James, "Every 

33 ACT I — SCENE 1 



good and perfect gift is from above and cometh 
down from the Father of lights, with whom is 
no variableness, neither shadow of turning." 
Let us return thanks: We offer our thanks- 
givings for this bounty and this happiness, and 
ask humbly that it be blest unto us. And now, 
good neighbors all, belike you expect a speech 
from me ; and I may say something by and by ; 
but just now I confess I am too honestly hun- 
gry for speechmaking, and I hope all of you are 
too honestly hungry for listening. Therefore 
we will all soberly fall to. Bring in the — 
Bertha interrupts hastily : 
Bertha. My lord, you have forgot this instru- 
ment, the bond perpetual. 

Osmond. Most true. Good folks, listen to my 
Lady Bertha. 

Bertha rises. 

Bertha. My people, I am much beholden to you 
for your love and for the occasion of this gay 
holiday. Now you will hear that I have done as 
I promised you (reads the deed) : "Whereas, 
I, the Lady Bertha of Wistgaw, with the hearty 
good will of my husband. Count Osmond, give 
this Honey-Broth, on this first day of June, in 
the year of grace 1500, in commemoration of 
the completion on this day, of our second castle 
of Wistgaw, now I ordain and appoint that this 
festival shall be perpetual, and enjoin all and 
every one who after me shall dwell in the 
castle of Wistgaw, to give a rich and bountiful 
Honey-Broth to the peasantry on every first 

ACT I — SCENE 1 34 



day of June hereafter, forever. Bertha of 
Wistgaw. This deed shall be preserved in the 
archives of our family. Fritz, our Steward, re- 
ceive it and guard it. 

Bertha gives the deed to Fritz, and sits down 
amid the acclamations of the people. The sec- 
ond workman rises : 

Skcond W. We all be main thankful to Lady 
Bertha and to you. Count Osmond; which to 
say I have writ a song to a tune we all know 
well, and with your leave, sir, I will ask the folk 
to sing it, sir. 

Count O. Sing on and sing all. I'll take a dip 
in it myself. 

Bertha. And so will I. 

Second W. Thank 'e, sir. Now, folks, harken to 

each^ verse, one at a time, and sing it. 'Tis to 

the tune of the "Red Meadow." 

Here the second workman recites the song as 
follows, giving one stanza and then all singing 
it, and so on : 

Second W. We yeomen know a thing or two 
Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
It can not be gainsayed : 
We have our homes, and heaven's blue, 
Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
And every lad his maid, 

Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
Our noble lord and lady ! 

We yeomen know the foul or fair. 
Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
It can not be denied: 

35 ACT I— SCENE 1 



We know what state the princes bear, 

Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
But we too have our pride, 

Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
Our noble lord and lady. 

We yeomen know the good or had. 
Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
It can not be withstood : 
And this we say, none ever had 
A lord and dame so good. 

Ha! ha! Ho! ho! 
Count Osmond, Lady Bertha! 

Count O. A good song, and well sung, and thanks, 

master poet, and thank all. And now, bring in 

the Honey-Broth ! 

Enter two cooks bearing two immense steam- 
ing tureens, which they place before Osmond 
and Bertha. Both the Count and Lady rise 
and ladle the broth into large deep plates. The 
serving men have come in and they carry the 
plates to the people, during which action, after 
a few plates have been served comes the fall 
of the 

CURTAIN. 



ACT I— SCENE 1 36 



ACT I— SCENE 2. 

Six months later, the lady Bertha has died. A stately bed 
chamber in the castle, having massive stone walls, an 
immense fire-place and chimney at back, and alongside 
it a large portal opening on a balcony filled with plants 
and flowers. The portal has swinging doors of glass. 
Over the fire-place and mantel hangs a picture of Lady 
Bertha. Under the picture and on the mantel stands 
a vase of flowers and a ewer or bottle of water. A 
large stately bed and a few handsome pieces constitute 
the furniture, including a large arm chair; also the 
child's small bed or crib. Time, late night. The 
stage is dim, but the balcony is highly lighted. Very 
soft music pervades. Osmond is seen moving among 
the plants in the balcony, examining them, carrying 
lighted candle. He sets down the candle, gathers some 
flowers, and then goes to the edge or rail of the bal- 
cony, still holding the flowers : 

Count O. How lovely is this lone and verging 

hour, 
And from this balcony how goldenly 
The moon bronzes the night ! Bright and pert 

flowers, 
Gay cousins of the day, lineage of light, 
Like me, whose eyes and feet night halts, ye 

seem 
Like me no less to love the moon-espousing 
Darkness. With you I'll retinue the night, 
Which shall no longer blacken with my grief. 
Come up, my heart, and let my Bertha relight 
Yon stars for me, and I will learn to see them — 
They shall again glow to these mortal eyes 
And twinkle comfort. 

37 ACT I— SCENE 2 



Osmond enters from the balcony, carrying the 
flowers and candle, and the stage lights up. 
He places candle and flowers on the mantel, 
takes the vase of flowers, goes into balcony and 
tosses the flowers and water over the rail, re- 
turns and fills the vase from the water bottle 
on the mantel, and arranges the fresh flowers 
in the vase. The music ceases. Then the little 
Herman sits up in the crib and calls Osmond, 
stretching out his arms to him : 

HtR. Grandpa ! 

Osmond comes quickly to the child and lifts 
him from the crib and sits in the great arm- 
chair, holding Herman. Osmond talks to him, 
leaning his ear to the child as to catch his soft 
whispered words, and then repeating them : 

Count O. What, little man! Awake this time o' 
the night? How's that? What? "Fright- 
ened?" At what art frightened? Eh? What 
sayest? "Afraid of the big dark?" My boy, 
the dark's no bigger than the Hght — learn that ! 
You must grow up, my fine little lad, with 
fearing nothing — that's the way for our noble 
house. And why fear nothing? Because 
there's nothing to fear. And why naught to 
fear? Because there's everything not to fear. 
And that everything is as much in the big dark 
as in the big Hght, and the name of everything 
is God. Dost not remember, sweet child, how 
Grandma told thee of God? Eh? What's 
that? "What is an orphan?" Who said that 
to thee? What? "Nurse called thee an or- 
phan?" Yes, 'tis so. An orphan is a child 
who has no papa or mamma. What? "But 
you have me?" Yes; but I'm your mamma's 
papa — so your Grandpapa. What? "And my 
lady Bertha?" Yes, she was your mamma's 

ACT I— SCENE 2 38 



mamma — so your grandmamma. What ? What's 
that? Um— um — um — what? "I don't hear 
well at all?" Come now, perhaps I hear as 
well as you speak. Try again. Ah! "Where 
is my Lady Bertha?" We don't know, little 
Herman, she died. What? "What's dying?" 
We don't know that, either. My lady just 
went away somewhere six sad months ago. 
What? "Who was papa?" What? "And 
where is he ?" He was a brave soldier and was 
killed in the wars. What? "What's killedf" 
That means he died. Eh? "Like my Lady 
Bertha?" Yes. What? "Where is your 
mamma?" She grieved so much when your 
papa died that soon she died too. Ah! What? 
A little louder. "What does grieve mean?" It 
means that she wanted to go with him. Eh? 
What? O, that was a long speech. Once 
again. Oh! You are very sorry Grandma 
died, and went away, because nurse is not so 
good to you as grandma?" No one could be 
so good as my lady, dear; but I'll speak to 
nurse, and she shall be more careful of thee. 
What? "You want another nurse? " What? 
"You don't love nurse?" Well, thou shalt 
have another nurse, a good nurse. What? 
"She never takes thee up in her arms?" And 
what? "Leaves thee alone sometimes?" Well, 
one shall take thee up in her arms — yes, in- 
deed — and thou shalt not be left alone any 
more. 

Enters Grun. 
Count O. Where have you been, Grun? Your 

39 ACT I— SCENE 2 



place is where this child is. 

Grun. Pardon, sir ; I knew sir, that you were 
here; else I would not have been absent. 

Count O. Hum! Well — go call me RoUo hither, 
and come back. 
Exit Grun. 

Count O. Come, now, my child, to bed again, and 
close those bright peepers. What? "You 
don't want to sleep?" But 'tis time to sleep. 
Eh? "Tell you a story?" Oh! no; 'tis sleep- 
time. What? "A very little short story?" 
Well, listen then : There was once a little bird, 
and he came, and he came, hop, hop, hop, hop, 
hop, hop, hop ! Then I spoke to the little fel- 
low, and said : Little Bird, will you stop, stop, 
stop, stop, stop, stop, stop? Then I went to 
the window, and said, How do you do — do, do, 
do, do, do, do, do? But he shook his little tail, 
and away and away he flew, flew, flew, flew, 
flew, flew, flew ! And now back to bed ! What's 
that? "You will tell me a story?" Eh! "And 
make it all up yourself?" Well. There was 
once a boy and a dog and a bear!" Yes. 
"Then there was a boy and a bear, but no dog !" 
Yes. "Then there was a bear, but no boy!" 
Ha ! O, the little man ! What a tale ! 'Tis an 
epic in three lines! There's a genius in him. 
Come, now, 'tis bed indeed this time. Now 
up you go, now down you come, now up you 
go, now down you come, now up you go, now 
down you come — plump ! 

During these last lines Osmond has swung the 
child up high in his arms, and then down low, 

ACT I— SCENE 2 40 



three times, the last time plunging him into 
his crib and tucking him in. 

Count O. There, you sweet precious rogue, go to 
sleep! Shut your eyes! That's right. 

Osmond goes to fire-place and gazes up at 
Bertha's picture. 

Count O. My Bertha. Oh! my Bertha, is there 

another 
Like thee in all the earth, or hath there been? 
Was't ever known in some gold age or Eden? 
Can such a grace descend in frequent showers 
That sprinkle many seasons and far lands? 
I hope so, will believe so, for men's sake ; 
But this heart breaks, for thou wert mine, mine 

own. 
For thee, poor little orphan, as thy nurse 
Called thee, belike not over kindly, I fear, 
More than twice orphaned, losing thy mother's 

mother, 
Have I been watchful enough? I fear my grief 
Hath very selfish been. But I'll requite 
My lady now with better care of thee. 
And for thine own sweet sake. Ay, verily 
Thou shalt be taken up in arms again — 
Ah—! 

Enter Grun and Rollo, 
Count O. Rollo, I noted on the southern lawn 
Today a broken branch trailing unseemly, 
And the rose-bed neglected ; and the north road, 
I' the willow corner where the brook circles. 
Hath poaching weeds making the fair line 

ragged. 
And other signals I have noted too 

41 ACT I— SCENE 2 



That you of late have slackened attention. 

Look to 't ! 
Is't the king's eye must make the king's horse 

fat? 
If so, I'll follow you with observation. 
But I would rather trust than spy. Look to't! 
And here i' the balcony there are pots too dry, 
And plants ill-trimmed, and trailing flowers 

un-staked. 

Go you, observe them now against to-morrow, 

And begone quickly. 

Osmond points to the candle, which Rollo 
takes, and goes onto the balcony. The room 
dims a little. 

Count O. Grun, leave not this room 

Till I return — I'll walk an hour i' the park. 

He goes near the balcony windows and looks 
out through them, and then looks up at the 
picture. 

Count O. Yes, in my one lone hermit-dark among 
The oft two-companied trees such perfect 

nights. 
Mark, Grun, I say, stir not till I come bid you. 
There'll be an eye on you. 

Grun. An eye, my lord? 

Count O. I said an eye. 

Grun. I'd stir not though — 

Count O. Enough! 

Exit Count Osmond. Grun looks into the 
child's crib for a moment, then goes a little 
toward the balcony. 

Grun. Rollo, you've looked the plants over enough. 

Did you hear the Count? He said begone by 

this. 

ACT I— SCENE 2 42 



RoLLO. I am to look them all over against to-mor- 
row's work on them. 
Grun. I say you've looked enough. 

Rollo comes from the balcony, candle in hand, 
and the room lights up. 

RoLLO. But I haven't looked enough at you, pretty 

Grun. 

Grun. Be done — and begone, as the Count said. 

Rollo. The Count isn't here to order me off, and 

you're here bidding me stay. 
Grun. I bidding you? 

Rollo. Surely — your pretty face bids me, and 
your pretty voice bids me, and all your pretty 
pleasantries bid me. How can I leave you ? 

Grun. By yonder plain way, the door. 

Rollo. Well, give me a kiss on it. 

Grun. No. 

RoLLO. Ah! a kiss, now! Why not now as well 
as an hour ago? 

Grun. Not here. I'm afraid of this place. 

RoLLO. This place? 

Grun. I mean this room. Sometimes I think Lady 
Bertha never has gone out of it! And some- 
times that picture seems to me half alive. Did 
you mark, he said there would be an eye on me ? 

RoLLO. Tush ! he meant he would watch you. 

Grun. I fear there's more in it. 

RoLLO. You heard what he said to me. He's 
grown mighty prying and rummaging of late. 
That kiss, now.' 

Grun. Not here. 

43 ACT I— SCENE 2 



RoLLO. Come out with me then to the nook in 
the garden. 

Grun. I dare not. 

RoivLO. Then I'll stay here. 

Grun. That's worse. Will you let me come back 
in ten minutes ? 

RoLLO. Why not twenty or a half-hour? 

Grun. He might return. 

RoLivO. He's good for an hour, or more, likely 
two hours. You know yourself how he wan- 
ders and mourns under the trees by day and 
night, and longest at night. Come ! 

Grun. For ten minutes. 

RoLi.0. Twenty. Come! (Looks into the crib.) 

Bub's asleep. Come ! 

Exeunt Rollo and Grun, Rollo carrying the 
candle which he has held. The_ stage is left 
very dark, though moon-light is visible through 
the balcony window. A bell slowly strikes 
twelve. With the last stroke a sudden light 
breaks in the chamber, and the spirit of Lady 
Bertha appears standing by the child's crib. 
The light emanates from her — she seems 
clothed with light, so that the chamber is 
brilliant. She looks tenderly at the child and 
bends over him. 

BijRTHA. I who am twice thy mother, twice by love, 

Being thy mother's mother, come for thee. 

Thou'rt like a jewel, meant for some rich care. 

But lost i' the freighting, dropt upon the sand 

And covered with the ship's discharging litter. 

Loosed from my arms, the barge that carried 

thee. 

Thou fallest on the ocean-edge of days, 

ACT I— scene 2 44 



With Osmond's grief and sordid servant- 
slights 
Littered on thee. I'll trust thee here no more, 
But take thee to the Kobolds, who shall train 
Thy virtuous youth to all the valorous arts 
Of chivalrous manhood. But first for Osmond 
Here will I leave a pictured face o' the child, 
To be upon the wall next mine — where else? 
Good Kobolds, enter, bring the picture, and 
place it ! 

A bevy of Kobolds come pouring up over the 
railing of the balcony and through the swing- 
ing door-way into the room, bearing a picture 
of the child like in size and style to that of 
Bertha. They ascend to the mantel, fix the 
picture by side of Bertha's, descend and run 
through the balcony, vanishing over the rail- 
ing. At both entrance and departure they pay 
respect to Lady Bertha. Lady Bertha now 
lifts the sleeping child from the crib and folds 
him in her arms. Enters Grun, with lighted 
candle. She stands aghast and terrified, then 
speaks with an effort at boldness : 

Grun. What are you? How came hither? Put 

down the child ! 

The Lady Bertha turns slowly and fixes her 
eyes on Grun, who utters a stifled cry. Then 
Bertha turns away and goes slowly to the bal- 
cony, enters and goes to the railing whence she 
floats up and away through the air, carrying 
the child with her. Grun has followed tremb- 
lingly, and when Bertha thus disappears, she 
turns back, staggering through the room, 
screaming. Enters Rollo. 

RoLLO. What's the matter ? Be quiet ! 

Grun. Oh ! the boy, the boy ! 

Rollo turns to the crib and looks into it. 
RoLLO. How? Where? When? 

Grun. She took him in arms and flew away. 

45 ACT I— SCENE 2 



Roi.1.0. Who? 

Grun. The Lady Bertha. 

R01.1.0. Stuff ! 

Grun. I saw her face. 

Confused murmurs and footsteps are heard 
outside growing louder and nearer. 

R0LI.0. You've roused the castle — they're coming. 

I'll hide in the balcony and steal in among 'em. 

Rollo runs into the balcony and hides among 
the plants. Enter the servants of the castle, 
carrying lighted candles. Grun meets them 
wailing and wringing her hands. They answer 
with looks and gestures, mingled with excla- 
mations of "What's the matter?" "What's 
wrong?" "Speak!" "Are you gone daft?" 
Grun waves her hands wildly toward the crib. 
They all hasten to it, crowding around it with 
their backs to the balcony. Rollo enters un- 
noticed and joins them. Enters Fritz. 

Fritz. What means this din? Why are you jang- 
ling here at midnight ? 
Grun. Oh ! Sir, the boy, the boy ! 

Fritz goes to the crib and stares into it aghast. 
Fritz. Gone! What! How! 
Enters Count Osmond. 
Count O. What's this ? What do you here ? What 
makes this clamor? I heard the din, saw buz- 
zing lights i' the castle. Speak, some one ! 

Fritz. O! my lord, the boy, the child! 

Osmond strides to the crib, looks into it, starts 
away trembling, then turns sternly to the 
crowd of servants. 

Count O. Where is he? Speak, I say. Who 

knows ? Speak ! 
Fritz. My lord, I nothing know — ^this moment 

came. 

ACT I— SCENE 2 46 



Count O. Grun, come hither ! 

Grun falls trembling on her knees before Os- 
mond. 

Count O. Where's the boy ? Speak! 

Grun only wails more wildly. 
Count O. Find thy tongue quickly — I do think I'll 
rend you 
r the frenzy of another moment's silence ! 

Grun. My lord, she took him in her arms and flew 

away. 
Count O. She took him? Who? Who? 
Grun. The Lady Bertha. 
Count O. What? Are you mad? 
Grun. I saw her face; I swear, my lord, 'twas 

Lady Bertha. 
Count O. Blaspheme not, wretch ! Away to your 
room. I'll deal with you anon. 

Exit Grun. 
Belike the child is stolen. 
Some crafty hirelings of designing patrons 
Have hatched a trick and stolen the precious 

Boy- 
Professed friends, but legal enemies. 
Willing to wring this rich and fair domain 
From Bertha's faultless line. Away, and 

search ! 
Use my best horses! Conrad, take some fel- 
lows 
And scour the northern road! And you, Ger- 

hart. 
Off on the southern pike, in double party, 

47 ACT I — scene 2 



The one to turn by th' old west road at the 
fork. 

Exeunt the servants. Count Osmond calls to 
one of them, who returns : 

Count O. Sigmund, take you a light and search 

the rock, 

A cruel place, below the balcony — 

He might have wandered to the rail and fallen. 

Exit the servant. With the going out of all 
the servants with the candles the stage has 
gradually darkened, till now it is dim with 
the light of only one candle. Fritz remains 
with Count Osmond. Suddenly on the stone 
wall burst out these lines, in letters of fire: 

We have the boy to train aright, 
To be a perfect gentle Knight. 
He shall return, and you shall see 
A pattern of fair chivalrie. 

Count O. Fritz ! 

Fritz. My lord, the Kobolds? 

Instantly under the lines appears, in quaint 
script, as an autograph, the name Kohlibran. 

Count O. The iCobold King ! 

Fritz. Ay! And look, my lord! My lord, look! 

Fritz stands with raised arm, pointing wonder- 
ingly to the portrait of the child beside that 
of Lady Bertha. As the Count looks, both 
frames become suddenly bright and fiery, illum- 
ining the pictures brilliantly. Osmond falls on 
his knees with face uplifted. 



CURTAIN. 



ACT I— SCENE 2 48 



ACT II— SCENE 1. 

Twenty years have elapsed. The scene is the same as in 
Act I, Scene 1, except that the castle shows twenty 
years of age. Count Osmond, now ninety years old, 
is not demented radically, but is different at different 
moments. Sometimes very sensible, shrewd, wise and 
again very childish, a little wandering, credulous, fan- 
ciful. Sometimes he knows Hilda perfectly well ; but 
sometimes he thinks she is an angel guarding him. He 
is given to very early rising, and Hilda, who watches 
him closely, always rises early so as to look after him. 
Her attitude to the old man is one of deep reverence 
and loving care. 

Time, early morning late in the month of May. Curtain 
rises on vacant stage. 

Enters from castle door Count Osmond. He 
leans heavily on a staff and comes slowly. 

Count O. So old, old, old, old, old ! 

Old — and when shall be young again? 

Gracious Mercy, when ? Ninety to-day ! 

Ha ! all my gossips are older, older, but young ! 

Enters Grun from castle and stands watching 
the old Count. He caresses the large tree sur- 
rounded with a seat and leans on it. 

Count O. Older than ninety art thou, and yet art 

young; 

And light's a million times ninety, but young, 

And drops his fires on me these ninety years, 

And yet the sun is young. Ha ! 'tis because 

They end and look not onward; but I 

Who peak over th' horizon, I grow old — 

Which means that I am going whither I look! 

Exit Grun into castle. 

49 ACT II — SCENE] 1 



Count O. Ah ! sough ! sough ! 'Tis early warm to- 
day — 
The sun but hangs his chin on th' east, yet's hot. 
Sough ! Sough ! 

He sits on the seat encircling the tree. Enter 
Grun and Hilda from castle. 

Hii^DA. As usual, at the sun-up, seldom later. 
Was ever known so old and young a soul? 
His retinue of years sometimes discourse 
Sweet wisdom to him, sometimes sweet delu- 
sion — 
A Solon now, anon a tender babbler. 
'Tis strange to be this hour ninety years wise, 
And the next moment less than prattling child ; 
But howsoever, most dear and honorable. 
The aged ought to be most dear next Heaven, 
For they are nearest Heaven, and shine white 

with 't. 
He likes few with him. Go, but be not far. 
Exit Grun. 
Hilda. Now, will he know me, or not know me, 
or speak 
Of angels and his lady, or say naught. 
Or do all these in a breath, as often he does ? 
Hilda goes to the old man. 
Hii,DA. Good morning, bright good morning, dear 
Grandsire, dost know the day? Your birth- 
day 'tis. 
Ninety years old to-day ! To think of that ! 
Count O. Ninety ! Who says that ? No. Millions 
of them, 
Sky-fulls of angels! Thou are one, an angel, 

ACT II— SCENE 1 50 



Sent to me by Bertha, Lady Bertha. 
She always sends the same, yes, you, the same. 
Hilda. Grun! The same, Grandsire, always me, 
the same. 
Grun ! Grun ! Why, Grun ! Grun, I say. 
Enters Grun from castle. 
Hilda. He's in his wandering way — 

Grun. 'Tis grown more frequent. 
Hilda. Perhaps. I have not noted. Prythee, 
fetch me 
The fragrant lotion on my dresser. Hasten ! 

Exit Grun. The old man has let his head drop 
forward and seems absent and inattentive. 
Hilda takes off his hat and loosens his collar. 
He looks up. 

Count O. Cannot you sing? 

Hilda. Oh, no ! 

Count O. All angels sing. 

Hilda. No, only some. I'm of the talking kind. 

Count O. And those that sing they can not talk? 

Is't so? 
Hilda. Oh, no, the singers can talk too. Ah ! Grun ! 

Enters Grun with the vial, which she hands 
to Hilda who laves the old man's head and 
face and neck, cooing to him all the time. 

Count O. Hilda ! 

Grun. Himself again, my lady ! 

Hilda. Yes. 

This moment ; he changes on and off, like April. 
Count O. Hilda ! 
Hilda. Yes, Hilda — who else? 
Count O. My own pretty Hilda! 

51 ACT II— SCENE 1 



Hii,DA. Yes, just your own, your own Hilda! 
Who else? 

Hilda hands the vial to Grun. 
Hilda. Replace it, Grun. 

Exit Grun. 
Count O. None else. The old, old man 

Has no one else but you. 
Hilda. No one but me? 

Why, then call me a hundred. Wilt like that? 

Count O. Nay, nay. I'll have you one, just one, 
yourself. 

Hilda. Well, I'll be one, and you are one; that's 

two! 

And merry hours will we two have together! 

Come now, and let me see you walk in the park, 

And you will see me too, for I'll go with you. 

Hilda helps the old Count up, and puts arm 
about him and slowly they walk away toward 
rear of the castle. Soft music. After a few 
steps the old man stops, looks around, and 
then at Hilda, half absently. 

Count O. Yes, merry hours, we two, ha! as you 

said, 

But that I fear you. 

Hilda. Fear me? Fear your Hilda? 

Count O. Not Hilda, but you, the angel. All fear 
angels ! 
I think y' are made of light! Have you just 

dropt 
From Heaven ? Did Lady Bertha send you ? 
Hilda. She did. 

Count O. And what says Lady Bertha, my Lady 
Bertha? 

act II— scene 1 52 



HiLDA._ She says she waits you yonder every hour. 
Count O. Ha ! yes ! And I am coming — it must 
be soon ! 

Ha! I'll not fear you; go with me under the 
trees. 

Did she send word of Herman, little Herman? 

He died not, nor was stolen ; my lady took him 

To the Kobolds. He shall return. Is't so? 
H11.DA. I can not tell. 
Count O. Not tell? Don't angels know? 

The angels? 
Hilda. Angels know not everything. 
Count O. Ah, true ! That's true, that's very true, 
indeed. 

Awaiting me, you say, my Bertha — Bertha ! 

But only good souls go to her — is't so? 
Hilda. They say so. 
Count O. Say so? Don't the angels know. 

The angels? 
Hilda. Angels know not everything. 
Count O. Ah, true! 'Tis only one knows every- 
thing. 

Only one, only one. One ! 

No, no, I fear you not — come under the trees. 

Exeunt the old Count and Hilda into the park, 
behind the castle. Enter Hans and Wilbold, 
left front. 

WiL. My dear Hans, I think you are afraid of 

them. 

Hans. No, no! Afraid of what? 

WiL. Spirits, ghosts, angels, imps, pixies, elves, and 

53 ACT II— SCENE 1 



all the rest of them. Yes, you are afraid of 

them. 
Hans. No, no! 
WiL. Yes, yes! I own / am. 

Hans. That's a good reason why I should not be. 
Somebody must face them. 

Wii.. Well, something in that. 

Hans. And the Chevalier Hans is the man to do it, 
afraid of nothing that looks like men or devils. 

Wiiv. O, we all know you are a big fellow. 

Hans. By my soul, no bigger in body than in mind. 
Baron Wilbold, and no bigger in words than 
in deeds, and no quicker with my tongue than 
my sword flashes when there's an enemy in 
front. 

WiL. Well, something in that. 
Hans. I want some breakfast. 
Wii.. Too early. 

Hans. It might be noon by the race I've had. I 
wish you'd tell me why the devil you would 
leave my towers at gray dawn and race hither 
for sun-up. 

WiL. Why, as for that, Chevalier, I couldn't stand 
it any longer — fact — ^haven't visited anywhere 
over night before for twenty years. I was 
homesick — fact ! 

Hans. Gammon! And there was no need of it 
anyway, with what you had under my turrets. 

WiL. What was that? 

Hans. My company. 

Wii.. Well, something in that. 

ACT II — SCENE 1 54 



Hans. Now hark 'e, Baron, since you will not give 
me a belly-full yet awhile, I'll make bold to 
ask you for a heart-full. 

WiL. Eh? 

Hans. Yes — a long time I've wished to speak of it. 

WiL. Then why have you not ? 

Hans. Afraid — just afraid. 

WiL. Afraid? I thought the great and doughty 
Hans feared no one, man or devil. 

Hans. But this is a girl. 

WiL. Um! Well, something in that. 

Hans. I assure you, my dear Baron, I'm con- 
foundedly in love.. 

Wiiv. Well, then, fall in deeper, or jump out alto- 
gether. 

Hans. That's just it — deeper. That's where I 
want your help. 

WiL. Mine? 

Hans. Yes. The girl is your daughter. 

WiL. What? Hilda? What are you saying, 
Chevalier ? Preposterous ! 

Hans. And why? 

WiL. You are forty-five if you're a day, or forty- 
seven — which is it? And Hilda has barely 
turned twenty. 

Hans. A woman is always twice as old as her 
years. Twenty, say you? That's as good as 
a man's forty. There you have a man and a 
woman. If I were twenty-five it would be a 
woman and a boy. 

55 ACT II— scene 1 



Wii.. Well, something in that! But — , 
Um! Um! Um! Pish! Nonsense! 

Hans. Not at all, Baron. Do you wish me to 
understand that you oppose me? 

Wii.. Well, um ! Not exactly that. That is Hilda's 
business. 

Hans. Hilda will obey her father, like a pious girl. 
Wiiv. Will she ? Ha ! You'll find she has a mind 
of her own. 

Hans. So ? But you can help, if you will. 

Wiiv. Hilda is a pretty maiden. But you think, 

perhaps, she is sure to be owner of this rich 

Wistgaw. 

Hans. That has nothing to do with it. 

WiL. By my soul, but it has much to do with it. 

Would you want her, now, if her only dower 

was my little hall of Eisenfelds? 

Hans. Ahem ! Of course. Chevalier Hans must 
be mated, and his lands must be mated too. 

Wiiv. Ay ! So ! You've heard the story ? 

Hans. Story? 

WiL. No? There was a little fellow named Her- 
man who would be rightful heir to Wistgaw, 
if living. 'Tis said he never died, but the spirit 
of his grandmother took him away and gave 
him to the Kobolds to be brought up. 
What if he should come riding up some 
fine day, with plume and crest and lance, and 
claim his acres ? 

Hans. Old wives' tales. 

WiL. My Steward, old Fritz, says he saw it. 

act II— scene 1 56 



Hans. A crafty old knave, — likes to make himself 
important. 

WiL. Urn! Urn! 

Hans. Besides, Baron, once get me married to 
Hilda and I'll pit my sword against this Her- 
man's, or any man's. 

WiL. Well, something in that. Hark 'e, Chevalier 
Hans, — we've been good cronies a long time, 
and many's the good bout we've had with bump- 
ers, and more to come, I hope, and your lands 
join mine, and you're a big bold fellow — 
though, sooth, I've never seen any of those 
hacking battles you tell about. 

Hans. Tell about? 

WiL. Well, well, well, well, I don't doubt you — 
though, faith, I'd like to see that whopping car- 
case of yours parrying, lunging, hacking and 
hewing — it were a brave sight. 

Hans. You'll have it. 

WiL. Well, I've no objection to you for a son-in- 
law, but I'll not force Hilda to it. 

Hans. But you'll persuade her, urge her? 

WiL. Why — yes, I'll speak for you, commend you. 

I see her yonder in the Park, coming this way. 

Be off with you, and come back soon; but no 

eaves-dropping, mind you ! 

Exit Hans, left front. Enter Hilda from park, 
behind castle. 

Hilda. My father, why back so early? 
WiL. Homesick, my dear, just homesick. 
Hilda. Homesick ? Was it not host-sick ? 

57 act II— scene I 



Wii,. Host-sick? What's that? 

Hilda. HI passed an hour in the castle of the 
Chevalier Hans, I should be sick of my host. 

WiL. Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut! That's no way for a 

girl to speak of a valiant Knight. 
Hilda. Is he valiant, papa? 
WiL. Assuredly, you should hear his deeds. 
Hilda. Who tells them? 
WiL. Why, well, — as to that — 
Hilda. O, I know, he is stuffed with his own 

words ; but that makes but lean fame. 

WiL. Tut! tut! I've wintered and summered him 
a long time, and he's a good crony and a good 
Knight. Hilda, what say you, now, to the 
Chevalier Hans for a husband? 

Hilda. For a husband? Well, I say nothing to 
him. 

WiL. Nothing? Why nothing? 

Hilda. Because he says nothing to me. 

WiL. Yes, he has asked me for you. 

Hilda. But that's not asking me for myself. 

WiL. Hey-day ! hey-day ! my girl. Where learned 
you that pretty treason? 

Hilda. No treason, no rebellion ; only a knowledge 
of my gentle papa, my commander. 

WiL. Well, something in that ! 

Hilda. I know you would not force your mother- 
less girl to a detested marriage. 

WiL. Force, force? Why, no. Force? By my 
soul, I would not, and by my head I will not, 

ACT II— SCENE 1 58 



Hans or no Hans. All the same, Hilda, 'tis my 
wish and will that you marry him, and he has 
asked for you boldly and fairly. 
Hilda. And why? 

WiL. Why? What mean you? Because he loves 
you. 

Hilda. Does he love me, papa ? 

WiL. He says so. 

Hilda. But do you believe him? 

WiL. Tut, tut, tut, tut, tut, again. You are speak- 
ing of a brave knight. 

Hilda. Truly, he says that ! But I'll not marry 
him, father. What you call his deeds make 
a rattling gale from his own mouth ; but they'll 
not drive this little craft on a shoal. No, no; 
I'll keep the open sea. 

WiL. Now look you, Hilda, the Chevalier Hans 
is a doughty Knight and my friend and my 
guest — 

Hilda. Guest? Better say Cousin Bottle-tipper. 
He almost lives here. 

WiL. Well, something in that; but that's as I'll 
have it. 

Hilda. And I think drinks nowhere else. Did you 
see any wine in his hall? 

WiL. Faith, no, I never thought of it. Well, some- 
thing in that. But, however, I have given him 
leave to address you, and that means duty in 
you. I don't command you to marry, as many 
a father would — I'll not do that; but I'd like to 
see you his wife, and I bid you consider and 

59 act II— scene 1 



use him well. And you'd not take my words 
lightly, Hilda. 

HiivDA. Use him well — that means use him as he 
deserves. Yes. Don't tie up my wit too short, 
dear papa. Leave me a little frolic. Why 
should I take him seriously? He cares nothing 
for me. 

Wii.. Why so? You are pretty and sweet enough 
to love. 

Hilda. But he's too big a braggart to love any one. 

WiL. Tut, tut! 

Hilda. He wants the broad lands of Wistgaw. 

WiL. Well, something in that. But why should he 
not want them? 

Hilda. True ; but he'll find this little bird too quick 
a wing for him if he hunts me for that fat 
meat, the old grimalkin ! 

WiL. Hilda, Hilda, what's this ? I bid you be bet- 
ter-mannered. Remember he has my grace and 
favor. Look to yourself. 

Hilda. I'll treat him in two ways, dear papa ; first, 
as being in grace with my father, and then as 
being in disgrace with me. 

WiL. Tut, tut! Look to it! 

Hilda turns away petulantly, defiantly, roguish- 
ly and walks toward the castle. Enters Hans, 
left front. Wilbold takes him by the arm and 
turns him so that both tfie men stand with 
back to Hilda, and Wilbold signs toward her 
with his thumb over his right shoulder. Just 
then Hilda, as if to speak again, turns, sees 
Hans and Wilbold's gesture, and turns away 
again more defiantly and mockingly than be- 
fore. 

ACT II— SCENE 1 60 



Wii,. There she is, like a pretty little tower all 
grown with ivy, but mighty frowning and war- 
like. I've done wfeat I can for you, and will; 
but you'll have to lay siege yourself. 

Hans. I don't know how to woo, Baron Wilbold — 
except with my sword. 

WiL. Faith, I think you'll get little of Hilda, if 
you don't learn. Come, begin, now; to her! 
Begin, I say. 

Wilbold signs again with his thumb over his 
shoulder toward Hilda, and exit left. Hans 
sheepishly watches Wilbold retire. Hilda, who 
has seen the Baron's gesture and retreat, turns 
away again with a very roguish, mocking, 
whimsical manner. At same moment Hans 
turns and goes to her, as she stands with her 
back toward him, 

Hilda. No, no, papa ; say no more. I'll not marry 
him. I saw the old merchant-lugger plotting 
with you ; but he'll not get little me on his decks 
— no, no ! 

Hans. Hem! hem! 

Hilda. No wonder you clear your throat of him ! 
I wish you'd clear your mind of him ! 

Hans. Hem ! Ah-h-h ! 

Hilda. He's an old thing, a bygone, just a gray 
old Jack — nothing left but the wag of his ears, 
or of his tongue, too. Sooth, yes, he brays 
enough for ten asses ! Nonsense, Papa ! 

Hans. Hem ! Ah-h-h ! 

Hilda. There's nothing in all his big striding car- 
cass but victuals and drink — he's a granary, a 
meat-stall, a wine-tun. Abominable, Papa! 

61 act II— scene 1 



Hans. Hem! hem! Ah-h-h-h! 

Hilda. And he's a mere mouther, a windy brag- 
gart, a cowardly blusterer, a strutting swash- 
buckler. Sooth, if his sword rattled like his 
stories, 'twould be heard around the world. I've 
heard say a goose flapped at him on his land, 
and he fled in a fright. For shame, Papa ! 

Hans. Hem! hem! hum! 

Hilda. And he knows nothing — I warrant he can- 
not write his name. Tut, tut. Papa! 

Hans. My lady, Hilda — 

Hilda. O, if you come to that, not only to plead 
his stupid case but to ape the rusty growl he 
calls his voice, I have done. I say, say, say, say 
say, say No! . . . No, no, no, no, no, no, 
no! 

Hans. I say, lady Hilda — 

Hilda turns quickly toward him. 

Hilda. Oh! You are yourself! Fie, fie, fie, fie! 
The Chevalier Hans of Althausen, a listener, 
an eavesdropper! Fie, fie! 

Hans. But, my pretty Hilda — 

Hilda. Oh! fie, fie, fie! But I think you can not 
tell what I said. 

Hans. Why as to that — 

Hilda. Yes, as to that, I think you can not. But 

I can put it all in one little syllable; what you 

listened to — fie, fie! — is all in one short word, 

the TRUTH ! 

Exit Hilda into the castle, tripping away with 
a trill of gay, mocking laughter. 

ACT II — SCENE 1 62 



Hans. Ha! ha! fooled, flouted, hooted, jeered! 

Enters Rollo from rear of castle. 
Hans. Ha ! ha ! Tweaked, rapped o'er the knuckles, 
plucked, pooh-poohed! Ha! ha! 

Rollo. (Aside.) Now, what is Sir Swagbelly 
saying to himself? 

Hans. The Chevalier Hans of Althausen twitted 
and laughed at, ha ! ha ! by a chit of a girl ! 
When I get you into my towers, my pretty lady 
bird, you'll cackle another way, I think. Ha! 
ha! 

Rollo. Servant, Chevalier Hans. 

Hans. Ha! Rollo! Here, you fellow! 

Rollo comes forward. 
Rollo. Servant, sir. 

Hans. The lady Hilda has just given me a devil 
of a rating — and all for wishing to marry her ! 

Rollo. Ah ! that is very bad for my lady. 

Hans. What? Blockhead, mind your words, or 
I'll crack your crown. 

Rollo. I mean 'tis bad for my lady to quarrel 
with your worship. 

Hans. That's certain. You seem a sensible kind 

of fellow. Master Rollo. 
Rollo. Ay, sir. But for cracking my crown, your 

worship, what would you do it with? Would 

you butt me? — for I think my skull is thicker 

than any but yours. 

Hans. Out, fool, lout, rascal! Take that, and 
that, and that. (Strikes Rollo.) 

Rollo. Oh ! of mercy, hold, your worship, hold 

63 ACT II— SCENE 1 



your hand, of mercy! 
Hans. Clown, I am more like to mercy you with 

cuffing your ears. Hark'e — go fetch me your 

wife. 
RoivLO. My wife? Grun? 
Hans. Ay, Grun, your wife. She is the Lady 

Hilda's maid — isn't she? 
Roi.i.0. Indeed she is, and was her nurse before 

her maid. 
Hans. So much the better. Fetch her. 
RoLLO. But, sir, I — I — 

Enters Grun from castle. 
Hans. Lout, will you be cuffed again? Off with 

you! 
RoivivO. But, sir, here she is, pat for your worship's 

purpose. 
Hans. Ah ! the pretty Grun ! Come hither, pretty 

Grun. 

Rollo stares at Hans sourly, then goes to Grun. 
RoLLO. There's Sir Snappy Hackstory wants you. 
Grun. Hold your tongue ! He's a good big swash- 
ing Knight. 

Grun goes to Hans. 
RoLLO. (Aside.) Ha! both of 'em. Is that the 

corner o' the wind ? I'll lurk a bit, watch a bit. 
Hans. Ah — h — h ! So may a man see how he has 

been a busy fool ! 
Grun. How is that? 
Hans. And where have my eyes been? Tell me 

that! 



'act II--SCENE 1 64 



Grun. Your eyes? In your head. I suppose. 

Hans. By my head, have I had a head? Where 
was it, and my eyes and my wits, that never 
before I have seen how charming is Grun ! 

Grun. Nay, now. Chevalier Hans, I am a married 
woman and honesi. 

Hans. And may not a woman be honest and 
charming ? 

Grun. Oh ! Chevalier, some men say not. 

Hans. Then they have not met you, pretty Grun. 

Grun. Oh, sir! 

Hans. And if a belted Knight puts arm about 

you, so, and takes a kiss, so — does it not taste 

good? 

Grun. Ay, sir, a poor woman is pleased with a fine 
bold knight, and his favors taste good — and 
so, why, there ! 

Hans. Ay, ay! And so another! And another! 

Grun. That's enough now, sir — one to keep, one 
to forget, and one to wait on. 

Hans. Ha! And now, while I wait for the next 
one, I'll ask you to do me a service. 

Grun. So ? I . thought so. When a high-born 
fondles a woman the like of me, he wants some- 
thing — she must pay for his dawdling. 

Hans. No, no, no, no ! I was going to ask favor 
and help of you, and when, to do so, I look at 
you, I see how comely and charming Grun is. 

Grun. **Help"? Well, what do you want. 

Hans. Your favor. 



65 act II — scene 1 



Grun. My favor? 

Hans. With your lady. 

Grun. The Lady Hilda? 

Hans. The Lady Hilda — I want to marry her. 

Grun. So! The cat's out! You kiss me to get 
past me to another. A poor woman might be 
proud of a Knight's kiss, but not that kind, 
Chevalier. 

Hans. Now, tut, tut, pretty Grun. Would I not 
marry you if I could? Of course I would — 
that's what I mean. But as it is, I want to 
marry the little lady. 

Grun. Then speak to her — that's a man*s way. 
Isn't it a Chevalier's way? 

Hans. Why, yes (aside) — devilish sharp tongue 
— and so I have; but she will not listen. Oh, 
'tis past telling how she flouted me. But now, 
as you and I would wed if we could — 

Grun. Don't lie. Chevalier. The Chevalier Hans 
of Althausen marry a poor commoner? No, 
no. But he will amuse himself with her. 

Hans. Don't say that, pretty Grun. — (Aside.) 
Curse her bold face ! — Even a king has married 
a beggar-maid. 

Grun. Yes, a king, a king, but not — 

Hans. Not what? 

Grun. Oh, never mind. 

Hans. Well, won't you speak for me to the little 
lady as you feel and think about a Knight who 
has kissed you? Do so, my pretty Grun. 

Grun. Oh, yes, I'll do that. 

ACT II— SCENE 1 66 * 



Hans. That's a charming Grun. Another kiss! 

No? Well, lose no time about it, pretty Grun. 

Enters the old Count Osmond from rear of 
castle. 

Grun. Not a wink. My lady will be here quickly. 

Hans. Now, tell how you know that. 

Grun. By the old Count coming yonder. She is 

never far when he is near. She keeps after him 

that closely. 
Hans. Ah! good soul! 
Grun. Ay! But go you off, now; and hark, no 

eavesdropping or spying. You may come back 

soon, but make some noise about it, mind you. 

Grun turns away and goes to the old Count. 

Hans. So I will, pretty Grun. 

Exit Hans, left front. Grun helps the old 
Count toward the seat at foot of tree. Soon 
he stops, and gazes at Grun earnestly. 

Count O. My little Hilda ? No, no. The Angel? 

No, no, no! 
Grun. But let me help you to the bench under the 

tree. Count Osmond. 

Count O. Yes, yes. 

He sits on the bench, then looks at Grun. 

Count O. The Angel ? No, no, no, no ! 

The old Count leans his head forward, resting 
it on his hands which rest on his walking 
stick; sits motionless. Enters Hilda from cas- 
tle. 

Hilda. Ah ! the dear old grandsire is here. 

Grun. Yes, my lady, and talking of Angels. 

Hilda. Let be, Grun. 'Tis well if the place seem 

67 act II — scene 1 



peopled like Heaven — we shall keep him the 
longer. 

Grun. That would please you, my lady, but how 
might the Chevalier Hans think of it? 

Hii^DA. What has the Chevalier Hans to do with it ? 

Grun. Much, or nothing, as may happen. The 

big Knight has been talking to me — ^he wants 

to marry you. 

Hilda. Yes, so he says; but I think he wants not 
me, really. 

Grun. What then? 

Hilda. Oh! my youth, and the bit of beauty I 

have, and chiefly the fair lands of Wistgaw. 

Well — what say you to the big Chevalier for a 

husband ? 
Grun. I think, dear madam, that a lady should 

beware of a man who kisses her maid. 
Hilda. What, what, what — do you mean to say — 
Grun. I say nothing, my lady; but a poor woman 

may be flattered first, and then ashamed. The 

mighty Hans will be here soon. Will you see 

him, or leave him to me? 
Hilda. Ah, ha! Ah, ha! I see! I smell some fun 

in the air. Out of your wrap and bonnet, Grun, 

and give them to me, and take mine away. Ah ! 

that does well. 

Hilda and Grun have quickly taken off wraps 
and hats and Hilda has put on Grun's. Then 
a rough singing is heard outside. 

Grun. He is coming, my lady. 

Hilda. Hurry away! Hold! Put on my garb, 

ACT II— scene 1 68 



lest he see you going off. 

Grun hastily dons Hild's wrap and hat and 
goes toward castle. Enters Hans left front, 
sees Grun, supposes her Hilda, and approaches 
Hilda supposing her Grun. Exit Grun into 
castle. RoUo has followed Hans in stealthily. 
During the following talk Hans pauses at some 
distance from Hilda and gradually draws 
nearer, turning in doing so till his back is to- 
ward right of stage, while Rollo moves care- 
fully so as to keep behind Hans. 

Hans. Ha! pretty Grun, what news? I saw the 

little lady making off. Any success with her? 

If not, the devil's in it! Eh? Not a word? 

Perhaps you want a Chevalier's arm around 

you, as the Chevalier wants it — so. Eh? Still 

dumb. Perhaps you want a Chevalier's kiss as 

the Chevalier wants yours — so. 

Here Rollo shakes his fist at Hans, and at 
same moment Hans roughly whirls Hilda 
around and attempts a kiss. But Hilda springs 
lightly backward, breaking away from him, and 
catching sight of Rollo just as he ends his 
threatening gesture and goes oflF right. 

Hilda. Chevalier Hans! Oh! Chevalier! Fie, 
fie ! Is this the way you treat a lady's waiting 
woman? Fie, fie! Oh! Chevalier! Ha, ha! 

Hans. Not so fast, my lady — 

Hilda. Nay, say that to yourself, Chevalier. Fie, 
fie! Oh, Chevalier! Ha, ha! 

Hans. I say you are too quick, Lady Hilda. They 
that play tricks must look for tricks. You 
think I didn't know you. I knew you all the 
time. It is my "Ha, ha!" 

Hilda. Did you, indeed? 

Hans. By my head — 

69 act II — scene 1 



Hilda. A dull oath, and a vacant oath, yet a 

sounding oath, as by an empty tub. 
Hans. By my honor, fair Hilda — 

HiivDA. "By all that is not" were as good an oath. 
Fie, fie! Oh, Chevalier! Ha, ha! 

Hans. I say, I should know you under any dis- 
guise. Body o' me, my lady — 

Hilda. That's a big oath, but not a brave one. 
Fie, fie! Oh, Chevalier! Ha, ha! 

Hans. I tell you, my lady — 

Hilda. Nay, but I tell you, that — that — that — 

that — somebody saw you just now. 

Hans looks timidly to right and left and behind 
him. 

Hilda. Oh! he's not here, but he will be, with 
something to say and do, if I guess right. I'll 
leave you to him. A merry hour, to you. Fie, 
fie ! Oh, Chevalier ! Ha, ha ! 

Exit Hilda into castle, with a peal of mocking 
laughter. Hans stands looking after her. En- 
ters Rollo right front, trimming with his knife 
a stout green stick he has cut in the shrubbery. 
He clasps the knife and puts in his pocket, 
eyeing Hans the while, then goes to him and 
gives him a light tap on the shoulder with the 
stick. Hans whirls round facing Rollo. The 
old Count rises from the seat and moves very 
slowly toward the door of the castle. 

Rollo. That's a tip to show what you're to get. 

Sir Swagbelly. 
Hans. (Drawing his sword.) What? Out, var- 

let, out, before I cut you in two. 

Rollo. Your sword? Bah! I know a bit of 
single-stick. I'll show you the twist. Thwack ! 

ACT II^SCENE 1 70 



By a strong, dexterous whirling blow, Rollo 
strikes the sword from Hans' hand. Hans 
thereupon runs to the tree and gets it between 
himself and Rollo, who chases him. 

Hans. Rollo, good Rollo, I beg you, good Rollo, 
don't be rash. What's the matter? What do 
you want? 

Roi.i.0. What do I want? To get at you, and I 

will. What's the matter? Didn't I see you 

putting arm around my wife? Didn't you take 

a kiss of her ? Out, Sir Rabble ! A fine Knight 

you ! I'll polish the back of your Knighthood ! 

Rollo begins to dodge around the tree, aiming 
blows, and Hans dodges in like manner. Soon 
the dodging becomes a race round and round, 
in which Rollo gains, and Hans bolts from the 
tree, runs to the old Count, pursued by Rollo, 
catches the old Count by the arms and holds 
him between himself and Rollo as a shield. 
Rollo stops. 

RoivLO. So! Chevalier Gammon! Sir Rake, Sir 

Snap, Sir Quack-Mouth ! There lies your 

sword. Leave my old master, and come out. 

Sir Quake-liver! 

Enter Hilda and Grun from castle. Hilda runs 
to the old Count, throws oflf Hans' hands, and 
puts her arm protectingly over the old Count's 
shoulders. Hans retreats a little to one side, 
but keeps back of Hilda, looking timorously at 
Rollo. 

Hilda. What's all this, Rollo? 

Rollo. Why, my lady, I caught him putting arm 

around Grun and taking a kiss of her, not ten 

minutes ago on this spot. 
Hilda. Oh! no, Rollo! That was I. The htg 

Chevalier has made love to me, and I borrowed 

71 ACT II— SCENE 1 



some things of Grun, to play a trick on him. 

But he swore he knew me, in spite of Grun's 

togs, and we must believe him, you know — Oh, 

never shake your head so, we must believe him, 

indeed. And anyway, it was I and not Grun, 

letting him put arm about me and court me. 

So away with you, and be a good loving couple. 

Exeunt Rollo and Grun together, though Rollo 
casts contemptuous and suspicious glances at 
Hans. 

HiiyDA. Pick up your sword, Chevalier. Did you 
get a slap on the knuckles? No? That's well. 
But your sword on the ground, Chevalier? 

Hans. My lady would not have me use my sword 
on a peasant lout? 

Hilda. No, indeed, big Chevalier; 'tis so much 

better to throw down your sword and run 

away — Oh, fie, fie ! — and to use an old man for 

a shield — fie, fie! Oh, Chevalier! Ha, ha! 

Hilda leads the old Count tenderly toward the 
castle, cooing and talking to him. Hans goes 
left, scowling viciously. 



Curtain. 



ACT II— SCENE 1 72 



ACT II— SCENE 2. 



SCENE — The ascending slope of the hill of the Kobolds, 
occupying about one-third of the depth of the stage, 
and nearly the whole of the width, leaving just enough 
space on each side to show the round of the hill. The 
slope is steep and high, prettily brushed, with outcrop- 
pings of rock adorned with gray and green lichens. In 
front of the hill is an open green lawn. Boughs of 
trees overhang it in part, projecting on both sides from 
trunks just appearing in view. Night, with bright 
moonlight. Enter three Kobolds who look about watch- 
fully, then give a signal by striking on the hill, which 
returns a hollow, deep, sonorous music, like the stroke 
of a huge bell, and then opens ; a large portion of the 
front silope and all the width of it dissolve away, show- 
ing a fine and large hall, brilliantly lighted, adorned 
with hanging crystals, and thronged with Kobolds. The 
interior is so painted as to appear very deep. The rear 
corners of the deep vista are hung with tapestries. 
From behind the tapestry at the left enters King 
Kohlibran, to whom all the Kobolds pay obeisance. 

Kohl. Rally, ye canty Kobolds bright, 
Who, bred of thrice distilled light, 
Make like mid-noon the mid of night 
And witch-time change to double day, 
Rally, and barken, and obey; 
For now's to be uncommon play. 
As I shall bid you. Know you, then, 
Our Herman must return to men, 
But first 'tis Lady Bertha's will 
He Hilda meet ; this we fulfill. 
Go two of you and find the maid, 
Where, in her ivied window's shade 
Viewing the pomp of stars and moon, 

73 ACT II— SCENE 2 



She fell asleep. Go, bring her soon, 

Yet charm her hither without waking, 

Nor sound, nor touch her slumber breaking. 

Exeunt two of the Kobolds, floating up and 
off through the air. 

KoHi,. Prepare ye for our lovely guest 

The dance we Kobolds love the best, 

Tripping with gay fantastic feet 

Where grass-green and our cave-light meet. 

But Where's our Herman? Why away? 

Blow him the call we all obey. 

A Kobold takes down a long silver horn or 
trumpet from the wall, and blows with a rich 
tone the following music: 



i^,rJ^\iJJi\iiii\iih]lf,l 



KoHi,. Well sung, and bravely ! Sound again ! 

The blowing of the horn is repeated as before. 

Kohl. Brave! And enough! 

Enters Herman, left, from behind the tapes- 
tries which screen the inner chambers of the 
cave. 

Kohl. Our man of men, 

My Herman, welcome ! What delay ? 

Herman. Sooth, Sire, in troubled sleep I lay. 
Dreaming you sent me off, away, — 
A vexing dream ! My heart was torn, 
'Till roused by th' music of the horn. 

Kohl. Ah ! dreams are strange, a mystic shore 
Where signals flame to us before 
The ships at sea come sailing in. 
Herman, the time arriveth when 

ACT II— SCENE 2 74 



You must return to live with men ; 

And you have ta'en our discipline 

So well you shall high honor win ; 

We render you to human sight 

A very perfect gentle knight. 

For a preparatory ken 

Some several sallies unto men 

Thou hast performed, and hither again, 

And at their jousts of knights and steeds 

Hast done such skilled and gallant deeds 

That all the chevaliers exclaimed 

Who was that knight so valiant famed, — 

Sir Torald hight when fight was on, 

But never found when fight was done. 

For Herman is thy name by birth. 

But hast been Torald called on earth; 

Now 'mong thy kind resume thy name 

And man it with its ancient fame. 

For time has come you forth to stay 

And with your people keep your way. 

But first you must a secret know, 

And understand before you go : 

Although your lands you never saw, 

Nor aught else human — such our law — 

Yet of the Castle of Wistgaw 

And all its meads and forests fair 

You are the one and only heir. 

Herman. Sooth, a rich tale, your Majesty; 
And tell me, please you, who may be 
The present holder. 

Kohl. You shall see. 

She comes at word that lovely she, 

75 ACT II— SCENE 2 



A maiden of your mortal kind, 

As sweet and good as ever shined 

On manly heart. In slumber blind 

She comes ; and you shall wake her ! Find 

Some happy way. 

Enter at left the two Kobolds, backward, mak- 
ing beckoning gestures with one hand, with the 
other leading Hilda by a long ribbon, the ends 
of the ribbon held by the Kobolds. Hilda 
walks with closed eyes, evidently asleep, yet 
fearlessly, guided by a dream-sight. Then the 
two Kobolds tie the ribbon into a graceful 
knot falling to Hilda's waist, and retire among 
their fellows, leaving Hilda standing still. The 
crowd of Kobolds all mass to the right front, 
one still holding the long silver horn and a 
little in advance of his fellows. Herman goes 
to Hilda with evident rapturous admiration, 
falls on one knee, takes her hand and kisses 
it. Herman then signs to the Kobold, who 
blows on the horn the same call as before. 
Hilda slowly opens her eyes. 

Hilda. Is 't music wakes me to light, or light to 

music? 

The Kobold blows the horn again to same 
strain. 

H11.DA. That strain again! A very calling music. 

I think 'twould call my soul out of my body 

If heard too much. This ribbon ! Mine ! But 

how? 

I think I am awake ! But where ? What these ? 

And who is he that kneels, kissing my hand, 

And holding it, and looking at me so dearly ? 

Oh ! is this heaven ? Or are the banished happy ? 

The Kobolds form a picturesque group around 
and at one side, not too near. Hilda and Her- 
man remain gazing at each other. Meanwhile 
Kohlibran and Yoho are to front on right : 

YoHO. Sire Unkie, this man is a liar. 

ACT II — SCENE 2 76 



Kohl. What — what — what — what? What's that, 

fool? 
YoHO. Is not a double-dealer a liar? 
Kohl. What then? 
YoHO. This man is a double-dealer. 
Kohl. How make you that? 
YoHO. 'Tis twenty years since he was placed with 

us. 
KoHL. Well? 

YoHO. And twenty is double ten. Oh, Unkie ! 
Kohl. You'll be whipped for smartness some day. 
YoHO. What matter? I shall not feel it. 
Kohl. How so? 
Yoho. I shall not know 'tis myself whipped, being 

called smart. 
Kohl. You'll feel the smart of the lash, I fancy. 
Yoho. Then it were a smart lash. Now, as a 

smart wit is a sharp wit, so a smart lash is a 

sharp lash — which is no lash at all, for all lashes 

are round and dull. Oh, Unkie ! 
Kohl. Go to ! You're a bad fool. 
YoHO. I'll wager you a laugh, Unkie, that I have a 

better head than you have. 
Kohl. Ah! Where's your proof of that? 
YoHO. Why here: If a king reign well, like your 

great majesty, he hath king-wit; but if I make 

folly, I have fool-wit. And your fool-wit for a 

fool is as good as king-wit for a king. 
Kohl. But you said a better head. How that? 
YoHO. Yes, because I knew it was as good — you 

77 ACT II— SCENE 2 



did not know that. Oh, Unkie ! 

Here the tableau dissolves. 

KoHiv. Away, you canty sprites, good elves. 

Go now and brightly deck yourselves, 

Ready to come unto the dance 

Upon my call and ordinance. 

Exeunt the Kobolds behind the tapestry at 
right corner of cave. Kohlibran, Yoho and the 
Kobold with the trumpet remain. 

H11.DA. Am I dreaming? 

Herman. Dear lady, no; 'twere pity 

If beauty as dear as thine were but a dream. 
HiivDA. I wake then, yet behold this gentle knight, 

Gentle and brave, fairer than all yet seen. 

Yea, and methinks than all could ever come. 

'Tis strange, 'tis wondrous strange ! And thou, 
thou art 

A stranger within the strange. What is thy 
name? 
Herman. They call me Torald. Lady, I ne'er be- 
fore 

Met mortal maid. Thou 'rt beautiful and dear. 
Kohl. Ay, ay! You see, it works. I've done my 
part ; 

Let Nature do the rest. 
YoHO. So Nature will. 

Unkie, canst tell me why this twain are like 

The fruit of yonder tree ? 
KoHi,. Well, well — and why? 
YoHO. Is't not a fair and lovely pear ? Oh, Unkie ! 
KoHi,. Go to ! You're a simple fool. 
YoHO. Not so, neither. 

ACT II — SCENE 2 78 



I'll prove you, Unkie, now — 

Kohl. Be still ! What saith he ? 

Herman. If one from childhood dwelt beneath a 
roof, 
Even though a temple's, fortunate were he 
If first he wandered out and saw the earth 
Upon a day celestial, full of sun. 
Meads of gay flowers, deep dells of plumy 

green, 
And brooks like warbling wires of silver strung 
Across the bends of hills, and over all 
The heavenly dome of blue latticed with clouds ; 
Or if by night 'twas that he first went forth. 
Then to the moon full-sailing mid cumulous 

islands, 
Or when the crescent, light full, yet sharp- 
peaked, 
Swims down a late horizon's soberness. 
Leaving the host of stars a-tiptoe, peering; — 
So I who, nursed with Kobolds, ne'er before 
Met fellow-mortal maid, am prosperous 
In seeing first one fair and dear as thou. 

Hilda. Pray Heaven I be awake ! I'd not be 
wooed 
So sweetly, dreaming. 

Herman. Nor I dreaming woo. 
Most precious lady. 

Kohl. Enough ! Trumpet the call ! 

The Kobold sounds the call on the horn as 
before. 

Herman. The Kobolds' call ! They come to dance 

— with us ! 

79 ACT II— SCENE 2 



The call is sounded again, the Kobolds pour 
in from behind the tapestry, right corner of 
cave. 

Herman. With us, sweet lady! See them come! 

Wilt foot 
With me an honorable ancient measure ? — 
While they will gambol round us like bright 

birds. 

Hilda signs assent and gives Herman her hand, 
and he leads her to place. The Kobolds have 
arrayed themselves. They are dressed, in two 
companies, one all white, one all bright red; 
but all wear caps of golden yellow with green 
wavy plumes. Then follows a dance long and 
full of many intricate and changing figures, 
moving gaily around Herman and Hilda who 
dance a stately measure like a minuet in the 
center. When the dance ends, the Kobolds 
all mass at the right front. 

Herman. Dear lady, your dancing is as excellent 
As soul, 'tis sure, excels your beauty's promise. 
Tell me, doth your sweet countenance forebode 
Action in all as rich as in your feet ? 
And yet methinks you cannot look so good 
As good in sooth you are, by your sweet soul 
Invisibly fairer than your beauty's praise. 

Hilda. Dear prince — for sure a prince you are, 
must be — 
I wander in a maze. You say I wake ; 
Yet ne'er before have I been wakeful so ; 
But now, how be it, in dream or act, I droop ? 
This scene, these wondrous beings, the dance, 

thy praise. 
Ah ! yes, not least thy praise, my happiness, 
Bespeak me rest awhile. 

Herman. Yoho, a chair. 

act II — scene 2 80 



YoHO. What, is her beauty lame? 

Herman. Lame ? 

YoHO. That she requires a truss ? 

Herman. Truss ? 

YoHO. Ay, so. What is a chair but a seat between 

two trusses? 

Herman. Out, fool ! Bring a rest-seat ! 

Yoho runs to side of the cave and brings a 
light but comfortable easy-chair. Meanwhile 
Kohlibran beckons and the two Kobolds who 
brought Hildo come to him : 

KoHi,. Go toll her home again and leave her where 
she was asleep at her window. 

Yoho. Here's your ointment and rouge. 

Herman. What? 

Yoho. Ay, so ! A bolster for lame beauty ! 

Herman. Away, rogue ! 

Yoho darts off, Herman places chair and ten- 
derly seats Hilda. The two Kobolds approach. 

KoHL. Torald ! 

Herman instantly obeys the King's call; mean- 
time the two Kobolds charm Hilda to sleep, 
untie the long ribbon, and with gestures and 
leading by the ribbon make her rise and follow 
them, left. 

Herman. What will you, Sire? 

KoHi,. Would you see a fair sight? 

Herman. Already you have given me a sight the 

fairest in the world. 

Kohl. But look again. 

Herman looks, and sees Hilda following the 
two Kobolds and starts toward her impetu- 
ously. 

81 ACT II— SCENE 2 



Kohl. Herman, not so ! Stay ! 

Hilda disappears under the trees left, tolled on 
by the Kobolds. 

Herman. But, Sire, I cannot lose her ! 

Kohl. Nay. 

You shall not ; yet awhile must stay. 

Behind our hill soon breaks the day. 

And morning, on yon crystal crown, . 

Opens her gates and tumbles down 

Her troops of children, rosy crew, 

Chasing the berries of the dew. 

Come, we must go in ! 

Kohlibran and Herman enter the cave and all 
the Kobolds crowd after. The hill shuts as it 
opened, and the stage is light only with the 
moon. Music. Soon enter the two Kobolds, 
who strike on the hill, which reverberates like 
a bell, then opens and the two Kobolds enter. 



CURTAIN. 



ACT II— SCENE 2 82 



ACT III— SCENE 1. 

SCENE — Same as Scene 1 of Act 11. Time, early sun- 
up the next morning, a radiant slant sunlight breaking 
over everything. 

Enters Count Osmond from the castle. 
Count O. I am not wont to be alone when I come 
out to the day. Belike 'tis too early — or too 
late. Yet I think the day is like other days in 
the morning. Where's my little Hilda? In- 
doors — safe in the Castle — she must be in the 
Castle of course. But where is the angel that 
always comes? The angel never is in-doors, 
but out-doors always comes. I will look about 
for my angel. 

The old Count wanders slowly off. Enters 
Hilda from the castle, looking for the Count. 

Hilda. I have awakened late — the day's too old ! 
Where is my ancient saint this lovely morn ? 
Nay, sooth, but where am I? In what land 

living? 
I think I grew a woman yester night. 
And suddenly learned how richer the joy of 

soul, 
Richer the joy enriched with the pain too. 
Than glee the lamb skips in the meadow withal. 
A dream 'twas — must have been ; but such a 

dream 
As was more living than some waking is; 
More loving too ; being woman by it, I know 

83 ACT III — SCENE 1 



I ne'er can love unless my Torald comes, 
The perfect Torald of my dream. Alas ! 
What gain I so ? I gain my dream, my dream ! 
With it, life's full, without it, bootless void. 
Ne'er love, say I, unless he come, my Torald ? 
Doth it mean I love him now ? Love whom ? A 

dream ? 
Oh, oh, I know not what to say or reason. 
But only what I feel, which is new love 
Embracing all. The fountains are broken up, 
And dream or real, Torald is in my soul. 
That now I love the world in every creature. 
Come new into my ears, my eyes, my arms, 
Ye singing birds, ye painted flowers and trees, 
And all ye creatures gentle and needful, come; 
I love you all anew ! But where's the Count ? 
The while I chant or pray — which is 't? — 

where's he, 
The very dear and venerable Count ? 
Rollo and Grun ! — I fear for him. — Why, Grun. 
Enter Rollo and Grun from castle. 
Hilda. Where is Count Osmond ? Have you seen 
him this morning? 

Grun. No, my lady. 

Rollo. Not I, my lady. 

Hilda. He must have wandered off. Go you this 

way and that, two roads, looking for him. I'll 

search the grove behind the castle. Quickly ! 

Exeunt all, Rollo and Grun to right and left, 
Hilda behind the castle. Enter Hans, left 
front. He holds a flat board and paper and 
crayon. 

Hans. Oh ! She flouts me like a pig, a very pig. I 

ACT III— SCENE 1 84 



think a waddling swine would have more favor 
from her lily hands. But a verse may fetch 
her — many a shrew tumbles before a verse. 
And I've some good ones in my head picking 
like chicks at the shell. Come out now, and 
let's see how you look. 

Hans writes and then reads : 
Hans. Hilda is like the air. 
She is so fine and fair. 

Well enough. The air is fine, but is it fair ? 
But who presses a rhyme far? Not a flattered 
girl. 

Hans writes again, and reads : 
Hans. She has such pretty ears, 
My heart is full of fears ; 

Right! Any woman will understand that. 
Hans writes, and reads again : 
Hans. She has such pretty eyes 
That I am all surprise. 

Good again ! A rhyme on eyes is taking. 
Hans writes again. Enters Rollo. 
RoLLO. Oh, will the big Chevalier tell me — has he 
met the old Count ? — we're all looking for him. 
Hans. Away, you lout! Don't you see I'm busy? 

Exit Rollo. Hans reads : 
Hans. And such a pretty hand. 
Better than gold or land. 

Good again. That's handsome — makes 
much of herself and light of her dowry. 
Hans writes. Enters Grun : 
Grun. Oh, please you, Chevalier, have you seen 

85 act III— scene 1 



the old Count? We're running about for him 
everywhere ! 
Hans. Out, you foul wench ! Will you bother me ? 

Grun. That's not what you called me last, Cheva- 
lier Hans. 

Hans turns and looks at her. 
Hans. Oh, bless me ! So busy I didn't know you, 
pretty Grun. Give me your pretty lip now. 
{Offers to kiss her.) 
Grun. Know little, get little. Ha, ha! big Cheva- 
lier. 

Exit Grun, mockingly. 
Hans. I'll put that saucy jade in her place, and 
she'll know it. 

Hans reads : 
If Hilda is my bride 
I shall be full of pride. 

Good again. A fair and full ending. And 
a good contrast. The ears make me full of 
fears, but the bride full of pride. 
Enter old Count Osmund. 
Hans. Now will I woo her with the verses, hum- 
bly begging her to read them. A man must be 
humble before marriage, the woman after it. 

The old Count has approached Hans and is 
now at his elbow ; Hans is surveying the verses 
admiringly. 

Count O. I don't know you. But you are big 
and strong. I think you can tell me how to 
find the angel. 

Enters Hilda from behind castle. 

Hans. Away, old carrion ! 

ACT III— scene 1 86 



Hans gives the old Count a vexed and violent 
shove with his elbow, which throws the aged 
man to the ground, while Hans still gazes at 
his verses. Hilda utters a cry and runs to the 
old Count. Enter Rollo and Grun at same 
moment, and the three help the Count tenderly 
to rise. Hilda, Rollo and Grun lead him to- 
ward the castle. 

Hilda. Take him to his room, Grun. I will be 

with him in a few moments. 

They go into the castle, while Hilda faces Hans 
with blazing eyes. 

Hans. An accident, my Lady Hilda. 

Hilda. Liar ! 

Hans. Madame ! I say I meant not to throw the 

old man down. 

Hilda. Ha! Meant not, meant not! Sooth, a 

doughty answer. 
Oh, a brave answer from the big Chevalier ! 
And if a wanton hind let fly an arrow 
Into a throng, doth he intend the hurt 
Of that one man whose heart or throat is 

stabbed ? 
You gored him with a brutal arm, and felled 

him, 
Venerable with ninety years ; and foul 
Words soiled his silvered head. Little you 

recked 
H he was grieved ! Oh, I could be a man 
One moment long, to brand it on your body, 
Wherein alone I think you have some feeling. 
It boils my blood and flames around my brain. 
Scorches mine eyes, and makes my tear-pools 

blisters. 
That his so ancient honorable age 

87 ACT III— SCENE 1 



Brooks such a foul from such a thing as you ! 

Enters Wilbold behind, so that Hilda does not 
see him. 

Hilda. Pah! go! You pitch the blue clear heav- 
ens, and make 
The honied bosom of the air a stench ! 

Hilda is drawn up proudly and scornfully, but 
dashes tears from her eyes. Exit into castle. 

Wii,. What's the matter. I never saw my little 
Hilda like that before. 

Hans. Belike you never crossed her will before. 

WiL. Well, something in that. But how cross her 
now? 

Hans. Oh ! She kicks like a colt at the pretty 
harness I would put on her, which you ap- 
prove — I mean the pretty harness, not the kick- 
ing. 

Wiiv. Well, something in that. But choose better 
words, Chevalier — ^you speak of my daughter. 

Hans. No offense, Baron. But, body o' me, she 
can slap mighty hard with her tongue. 

WiL. You must win or lose as you can. Chevalier 
Hans. I say I never saw my little girl moved 
so and looking so, since she fought piratical 
flies with her chubby little fists in her cradle. 
She is changed — something has happened to 
her. Faith, I can think she has grown tall 
suddenly, or else I have lacked note of her 
height. 

Enters Fritz, the steward. 

Fritz. My lord, 'tis the day of the Honey Broth, 
and I have had no orders. My Lady Hilda 

ACT III — scene 1 88 



sends me to you, and says she will come her- 
self anon. 

WiL. That bothersome thing! 

Fritz. My lord, for twenty of my seventy years 
I've seen the Honey Broth here, and for thir- 
teen of those twenty I've had your order for 
it, until, you know, my lord, last year — 

WiL. Hold your tongue ! I say 'tis bothersome 
and tiresome, and devilish costly. 

Hans. Baron, I've begged you a hundred times to 
be done with that plaguey fool-play. 

WiL. But what can I do? 

Hans. Do? Say no, cut the knot, end it. 

WiL. Faith, I think I will; faith, so! 

Fritz. My lord — 

WiL. Tush ! tush ! 

Enters Hilda from castle. 
HiIvDA. What's this? Fritz sorrowful, my father 
moved, 
The Chevalier again ! What is this? What? 
My father, you'll vouchsafe the Honey-Broth — 
Is 't not so? You'll not break the ancient 
usage ! , 

Hans. Ancient? Ha, ha! 

Hilda. Yes, ancient ; deeds of heart take soon the 
full 
Of reverend antique grace. So is this feast 
Ancient by Lady Bertha's heart, and the peo- 
ple's — 
Most reverend, hoar, religious, dedicate. 
Hans. Fine coddling! 

89 act III— scene 1 



Hilda. Bethink you, too, my father, 

Bethink you that Count Osmond still is here, 
A nobleman ancient, venerable, dear. 
The honored consort of the sainted dame 
Who first bestowed and then entailed forever 
This friendly feast to cheer our yoemanry. 
Spot not the antique silver of his head 
With rusty riddance of the festival 
Which his sweet lady made. 

Hans. And when he's gone, 

My Lady Hilda will persuade to feed 
The rustic yokels for his memory. 
Pah ! If you could but cook his good fat fame 
To make meat for the clowns, 'twere econom- 
ical. 

H11.DA. Remember what a lovely pleasure 'tis — 
No little thing — and ties their grateful souls 
Unto our house ; they love you for it fondly. 

Hans. Ay, ay ! And, Baron, shrewdly keep them 
feeding ; 
Full-stomach love is empty-stomach hate. 

Wih. Well, something in that. But still I fear to 

break 
Th' old custom — sooth, I have some cause to 

fear it. 
Well, something in that. Oh, let the fret go on. 
I say, Fritz, order the Honey-Broth as usual. 

Hilda. My dear, good father ! Fritz, go bid Grun 
wait 
Wi' the aged Count for me — I'll not be long. 

Fritz goes toward castle. Hilda turns to her 
father, but immediately, after a suspicious look 

ACT III— SCENE 1 90 



at Hans, turns again toward Fritz and calls to 
him. 

Hilda. Fritz ! 

Fritz. My Lady ! 

Fritz stops and takes a step toward Hilda, but 
she has hastened to him. Meantime Hans has 
fallen to arguing with Wilbold, making em- 
phatic and angry gestures. 
Hilda. And, good Fritz, touching this same 
Honey-Broth, 
See to 't 'tis good, as rich as ever 'twas. 
Fritz. My dear, good lady! 

Hilda. Bless thy good soul, Fritz ! We know th' 
Honey-Broth, 
A rite how fair, religious, dear ! See to 't ! 

Fritz goes again toward castle, and Hilda turns 
toward her father. 

Hans. I tell you, Baron, the rogues laugh in their 

sleeves while they eat your pudding. 
WiL. No, no, I think not so. 
Hans. I know it, the scurvy clowns. 

Hilda stops, turns and calls to Fritz, who as 
before turns and moves toward her, while 
Hilda goes to him. Hans continues his urgent 
gestures to Wilbold. 

Hilda. And, Fritz, hasten to tell the village folk. 

And bid them all to the tables. Go! make 

haste ! 

But first unto the noble Count and Grun — 

Command my nurse as I have bidden you ; 

I must remain to watch that knavish Hans, 

Lest he prevail to change my father's mind. 

Speaks musingly, to herself. 

Yet is it well to call the Chevalier knavish? 

91 act III — SCENE 1 



Methinks my mind — why is it? — hath suffered 

change, 

Some expeditious change, and I am new; 

My new heart sembles now a rich parterre. 

Kind to a thousand flowers, as kind to weeds. 

With a wave of hand to dismiss Fritz and has- 
ten him, Hilda turns again toward Wilbold, and 
Fritz toward the castle. 

Wii,. Well, something in that ! Something in that ! 

Ay, by my house ! And faith, I'll not be pushed 

by them. Fritz ! 

Fritz returns to Wilbold. 
Fritz. My lord? 
WiL. I'll give no Honey-Broth. 
Fritz. My lord? 
WiL. What are ears for ? I say I will not give the 

Honey-Broth. 
Fritz. My lord, may an old servant venture — 
WiL. No ! 

Fritz. Then pray you let your servant venture to 
venture. 

You will have peace, and so will all the spirits 

That faithfully keep this castle, if you vouch- 
safe 

To show this ancient customary love. 
Hans. Ancient again ! Ha, ha ! 
Wiiy. Away, old steward ! I have said ! 
Hilda. My father! 

Go, Fritz, to the old Count and Grun. 
Exit Fritz into the castle. 
Hilda. My father, 

ACT III — SCENE 1 92 



You'll not drive me away — nay, frown not, 

sir — 
You'll smith no iron frown into a lock 
To buckle my lips, whence now my soul wilf 

out. 
Bethink you, I have been all gentleness. 
All duty, affectionate, obedient; 
Yet now will I defy denial, and speak, 
And you must hear me, must, I say, and ought. 
You who have listened to this naughty knight 
That spoils your honor, reverence, piety. 

WiL. Hilda, have done ! 

Hilda. Yea, yea ! when done is done, 

Then will I too have done, but now I speak. 
And why, sir, will I speak ? To save my father, 
My father own, whom I do love, from danger. 

Hans. Danger! Ha, ha! 

Hilda. Remember what befell 
Two years ago — 

WiL. Tut ! tut ! 

Hilda. Two years, I say. 

When you but only pinched the diet, and gave 

But parsimoniously what had been rich. 

And when next year you but bestowed the 

broth. 
Naught but the broth alone, no meats there- 
with. 
The angry Kobolds then ransacked the earth 
For noises worst affrighting, foul and hateful, 
And made the long night hideous in the castle. 
You know you slept not by one wink that night, 
And none else but th' aged Count and me ; 

93 ACT III— SCENE 1 



Eke did they such a breakage in the house, 
That when old Fritz cast up th' amount, it made 
The very cost of the Honey-Broth to a penny. 
What may they do, or rather what not do, 
If now again you scorn the antique rite 
On which they dote? 

Hans. Pah ! Here's no chronicle ; 

These are but dreams of tales, whisps, vapors. 

Wii.. I dreamt not that mad uproar. Chevalier. 

Hans. Well, well, suppose 'tis so, what of 't? 
Defy them ! 

Wii.. Well, something in that. I own I'm not dis- 
posed 
To be dragooned to this preposterous pottage. 
Hans. And I must tell you it is no girl's busi- 
ness — 
'Tis men's affair — be sovereign with your own. 

Wii,. Well something in that! I'll not be coaxed 
too much. 

H11.DA. My father, remember it hath long been 

said 
The fame and fortune of our noble house 
Hang like a shield on th' arm o' the Kobolds' 

favor. 

WiL. Well, something in that! I've oft heard 
that, friend Hans. 

Hans. Pooh ! old wives' tales ! Will you be made 
a fool? 

WiL. No, no, I'll not be fooled ! I'll give no revels. 
H11.DA. Dear father, be not so prevailed upon 

To make you stubborn in this matter, pray you ! 

ACT III— scene 1 94 



WiL. Ha! What's that? Stubborn? What say 
you ? Stubborn ? Stubborn ? 
Out on the word ! A disrespectful daughter ! 

Hilda. No, no ! no disrespect ; only to say — 

WiL. But I say! That's enough! I'll give no 
feast — 

Except to my friends ! Ay, so ! A happy 
thought ! 

I will defy your Kobolds with a banquet 

Given my friends — Fritz ! — to knights and la- 
dies, 

Fritz, Fritz, I say! Ay, and to-morrow, sooth, 

I' the teeth of this their pet enforced feast ! 

Why, Fritz ! 

Enters Fritz. 

Go send abroad to all my friends. 

Knights, ladies, to banquet here to-morrow 
night. 
Fritz. My lord ! 

WiL. Go do it, instantly ! Look to it ! 
Hilda. My father — 

WiL. Peace ! I say I rule. No pottage ! 

Instead, I'll feast my friends to-morrow night. 
And yet, good sooth, 'tis one thing to meet 

mortals. 
But ticklish elves and vexed whimsical spirits, 
These be different. You, what would you do 
If droll or ghost confronted you, Chevalier? 

Hans. I would conjure it! Ha! And never again 
The thing would dare adventure me, I promise. 

Here Hans draws himself up fiercely to his 
utmost height and strikes his huge sword on 
the floor till it rings loudly. 

95 ACT III — SCENE 1 



Hilda. You would conjure it? Well, and so you 

shall — 
Hans. Eh, what ! 

Hii,DA. Or may, or have at least a chance to prove 
Your boast, big Chevalier. For they will come, 
O yes, the Kobolds come, I know they will. 
And wake the drowsy darkness with their 

wrath 
To-night — they'll not delay their angry sport. 
Stay you now with my father, doughty Hans, 
Stay here to-night, and help my father spar 
With these same antic sprites and pinching 

elves. 
You shall conjure them, ah, you know, conjure 

them ! 
Will you not stay? 

Hans. Well, hem ! my lady, no — 
HiiyDA. What! no? But you'll conjure them, be- 
think you, conjure them! 

Hans. I have affairs at home. 
Hilda. 'Tis early morn. 

You may go thither, and return to-night. 

Hans. Why two to fight with shadows? One's 

enough. 
Hilda. But to conjure them. Chevalier, conjure 
them! 
My father hath not caught that trick, to con- 
jure them. 
Will you desert your friend? Nay, come, con- 
jure them! 
For they will come, as sure as midnight, yes, 

ACT III — scene 1 96 



A-trooping through the halls with monstrous 

riot, 
Pound doors, shake screens, make creatures 

hoot, winds howl ! 
But you'll conjure them, surely, ah! Conjure 

them. 

Hans. Nay, nay, I have some business at my cas- 
tle— 

I must be gone — 'tis nothing. Baron, nothing. 
Exit Hans, hastily. 
Hilda. You see, my father, what he is, a coward; 

He dare not stay. 
Wii.. Tut ! tut ! 
Hilda. I say he quakes. 

Will you be ruled by such a thing as he 

Against your daughter's prayers? 
WiL. Tut ! tut ! I say. 

My mind is made — I'll give no Honey-Broth. 



CURTAIN. 



97 ACT III— SCENE 1 



ACT III— SCENE 2. 

SCENE — The great bed-chamber of the castle, the same as 
in Scene 2, Act I. The large and handsome bed is 
ready for use. It is night, a half-hour before mid- 
night. 

Wilbold is discovered, just ready for bed and 
two servants helping him, one holding a candle. 
The stage is amply lighted. 

WiL. That will do. Off with you now. And, 
hark 'e — quiet in the house ! D' ye hear ? No 
tricks, no noise ! By my faith, I never thought 
of it before, but mayhap the roaring fracas a 
year ago was made by you and your fellows 
to force the Honey-Broth from me. 

First Servant. My lord, my lord, can you think 
that of us? 

Se^cond Servant. My lord, do us not such wrong. 
We should be first bad and then mad to do 
such a thing. 

WiL. Well, something in that. But look to it! 

I'll bear no pranks. 

Wilbold lies down on the bed, the servants 
spread over him a light covering, suitable for 
summer weather, and go out carrying the can- 
dles, leaving the room very dark. Then begin 
ominous signs, dim lights of sundry colors 
flash about, low and rumbling sounds arise as 
if a storm were threatening, curious little faces 
appear and disappear in the walls. The noise 
grows louder and more grating, till the din 
becomes dreadful. It seems as if huge chains 
were dragged all over the castle floors, back 
and forth through the halls, up and down the 

ACT III— SCENE 2 98 



stairways, crashes and poundings break forth, 
the casements and doors rattle and there is 
loud knocking at them, outside dogs howl and 
bark, cats mew, owls hoot, and all the domestic 
animals add their voices affrighted. Wilbold 
is horribly terrified, alternately sitting up and 
lying down, putting up his head and hiding it 
under the covering, jumping out of bed and 
running to door or window at some especially 
loud and wild knocking or shaking or crash 
and roar. The room is kept light enough to 
show his movements plainly by the ominous 
flashes of colored lights here and there and 
the mocking little faces appearing and vanish- 
ing in the walls. Suddenly there is entire still- 
ness, the silence is profound, all lights cease 
and the room is pitchy dark. A bell tolls mid- 
night, striking twelve. Then a strange, weird, 
blueish light gradually fills the room, fades 
again, and all is omniously black. In the dark- 
ness a figure slowly becomes visible, very 
dimly, then more plainly, till suddenly a candle 
springs alight in the figure's hand, the room 
lights up, and the spirit of Lady Bertha is 
there. She slowly advances to the bed-side, 
where the terrified but fascinated Wilbold is 
shaking and staring, and a scroll unrolls in 
her hand, which is the deed of the Honey 
Broth executed by Lady Bertha. She holds up 
the scroll for Wilbold to read it, and lights it 
with the candle, and speaks: 

Lady B. Do what is here written. 

Then the figure moves slowly backward to the 
middle of the room, still holding out the scroll 
lighted by the candle; then the candle is sud- 
denly extinguished, the figure is gone, a dim 
blueish light pervades, which slowly becomes 
deep blackness. Then the din and roar begins 
again furiously. 



CURTAIN. 



99 ACT III — SCENE 2 



ACT IV— SCENE l. 



SCENE— Late twilight of the next day. The great dining 
room of the castle. The long table is set brilliantly, for 
a banquet in rear center, in shape of a semi-ellipse, 
with a very small table in front, thus : 




The little table is to be used for a splendid bunch of 
roses. Servants are putting the last touches to the 
banquet table. There is a wide window at rear, and 
two handsome double-doors, at sides, right and left. 

First Servant. The farm-hands are outside, to 
see the tables. Let 'em in, lad. 
Exit a servant. 

SECOND SERVANT. Ay, poor chappies, that's all 
they'll get of it. We inside can pick a little. 
Enter farm hands. 

First Farm. By the saints, but 'tis a fine board! 

First Servant. Is it not, masters. 

Second Farm. Ah-h-h! No honey-broth for us 
poor folks yesterday, but riot for the quality 
to-day. 

Third Farm. Well, they do say my lord the Baron 
had little sleep last night. 

First Farm. You house-lads can tell us what hap- 
pened. 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 100 



First Servant. What happened outside? 

Second Farm. The very devil happened — such a 
hellish roar was never heard. 

Third Farm. Ugh ! it makes me quake now to tell 
of it. Naught that could make a noise was still. 

Second Farm. Except the babies. 

Third Farm. Ay, the babies! 'Twas strange they 
all slept so in the din. 

First Farm. Din, say you? 'Twas a fury of 
crashing and brawling. All the cattle lowed, all 
the sheep bleated, all the pigs squealed, all the 
dogs howled, all the cats mewed, and all the 
owls hooted. 

Second Farm. And all the jacks brayed — ye for- 
get the jacks. 

First Farm. Sooth, yes, jacks and jennies too — 
brayed like trumpets all night. 

Third Farm. And thunder rolled around the sky 
like a groaning wheel. 

Second Farm. But no lightning. 

First Farm. No, nor any light. I never knew it 
so dark. You could feel the night on your 
cheek like a black powder. 

Third Farm. But did ye note that just at mid- 
night 'twas suddenly still awhile? 

Second Farm. Ay, like a clap of silence — then the 
racket began again worse than ever. 

First Farm. Now, what happened in the house, 
lads? 

First Servant. Ghosts. 

101 ACT IV — scene 1 



Au, Farm. Ghosts? 

First Servant. Ay! Kobolds, pixies, brownies, 
elves. 

Secx)nd Servant. And they say Lady Bertha 
walks sometimes. 

First Farm. Ugh! I be af eared of those things 
when I talk of 'em. 

Second Servant. Better say people or spirits, not 
things. 'Tis said they pinch folks that speak 
ill of them. 

First Farm. Ugh! 

Sdcond Farm. But what did they in the house? 

First Servant. A worse hubbub than all your 

squealing, howling and hooting creatures. 

Third Farm. No? 

Second Servant. Ay, they did. 

Second Farm. But what? 

First Servant. Beating at all the casements and 
rattling 'em like wind and rain, knocking on 
all the doors and opening and shutting and 
slamming 'em, no matter how locked, and a 
crashing and grinding everywhere, as if terri- 
ble chains were dragged up and down the stair- 
ways and thrown over and tin pans thrown 
about, and furniture breaking up, and a pound- 
ing on the floors like ten thousand canes 
a-dancing and stamping. 

Second Farm. And blueish light? 

Second Servant. No light at all — dark as a pocket 
— nothing but the roaring and pounding. 

ACT IV— scene 1 102 



First Farm. Ugh! 

Sounds of a cane on the floor outside at left, 
and all the farm hands and servants retreat 
to right side with signs and sounds of super- 
stitious fright. Enters Count Osmond, left, and 
walks slowly half way across the room, pauses, 
and looks about uncertainly: 

Count O. Have you seen her? 

A murmur of fear, awe, confusion, among the 
servants. 

Count O. Have you seen her? 

First Servant (Advancing). Seen whom, my 

lord? 
Count O. The beautiful spirit that comes to me 

and waits on me. 

First Servant (Retreating). No, my lord. 

At mention of the spirit the servants have hud- 
dled closer together and watch the old Count 
with evident fear. He turns and goes slowly 
back, and exit left. 

First Farm. What is that spirit he spoke of? 

First Servant. I never heard of it. 

Second Farm. Mark you, he called it a fair spirit. 

Third Farm. Ay, but one man's fair is another 
man's foul. 

Second Farm. Sooth so. I think the same bogie 
might pat the old Count on his head and take 
me a pinch o' the buttocks. 

First Farm. Ay, mind you when goody Gammer 
was left with a babe an hour old while her 
man went to the drink-place; when he came 
back boozy, a hobgoblin lass was tending his 
wife, and she took him such a cuff on the ear 

103 ACT IV— scene 1 



as knocked him flat, and sober, too. Now 

pick you up and take care of your woman, 

quoth she, and vanished in a blue mist; but 

they say her voice was as sweet as her hand 

was heavy. 

The farm hands and servants have been mov- 
ing bit by bit to the center, deeply interested 
in their ghost-talk and looking about and at 
one another fearsomely. Hilda enters, right, 
unnoticed, and comes close to them. 

H11.DA. Have you seen the old Count? I am look- 
ing for him. 

With startled murmurs and looks the men all 
huddle over to the left. Enters Fritz, right. 

Hilda. What is the matter, my good men? Am 

I so frightful? 
First Farm. The Lady Hilda! 
Skcond Farm. Ay, Lady Hilda ! 
Aiyi. Farm. Save you, ma'am! 
Fritz. Now what are you fellows doing here? 
First Farm. Please, sir, we were let in to see the 

tables. 

Fritz. Well, you have seen them. Off with you. 

Exeunt the farmers awkwardly, left. The serv- 
ants retire to the banquet table. 

HiivDA. Fritz, the aged Count? 

Fritz. I saw him but now, my lady, with Grun, 

who cares for him. 

Hilda. That is well. I must oversee the table. 

Hilda surveys all carefully, changes place of 
two or three things, meantime saying: 

Hilda. Spread the candles, lads — there are too 
many in the middle. So. That is well. No 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 104 



need to wait here; one of you bring soon a 
large, dewy bunch of red and white roses. 
Exeunt servants, right. 

Fritz. I wish the gentle folks a pleasant banquet, 
my lady ; but 'tis a sad business. 

Hilda. 'Tis indeed, my good Fritz; I have no 
heart in it. 

Fritz. I have not asked of your health, my lady, 
after last night. 

Hilda. Last night? 

Fritz. Last night, indeed — all night long — the wild 
uproar they made. 

Hilda. Wild uproar? And who are theyf 

Fritz. The angry Kobolds. Surely, my lady, you 
heard their terrible noises ? 

Hilda. Not a sound, Fritz. 

Fritz. And slept? 

Hilda. Indeed I did. 

Fritz. No one else did. 

Hilda. Yes, the aged Count. I awaked once and 
rose, and stole to his bedside, as my wont is, 
and there he lay in his venerable beauty, slum- 
bering as softly as a child, as I too had slept, 
and then did, falling at once asleep again. 

Fritz. Most wonderful ! At what time was that ? 

Hilda. Just midnight. 

Fritz. Ah ! the truce-time, and visit-time. 

Hilda. Truce? and visit? 

Fritz. Yes, my lady; just at midnight the horrible 
clamor suddenly ceased for a few minutes, and 

105 ACT IV— SCENE 1 



Lady Bertha's spirit visited your father. 

Hilda. Fritz \ Of all this he has said not a word 
to me. 

Fritz. He told me, my lady; but words recked 
little — his pale and haggard face told enough. 
But with the morning he grew stubborn again, 
saving your presence, my lady, and swore he 
would outface them all, and ordered that this 
banquet go on in defiance. 

Hilda. But how slumbered I through such a bat- 
tle? 

Fritz. The Kobolds must have charmed your 
sleep, and the Count's, too — they love you both. 

Hilda. My poor father, what can misguide him 
so? 

Fritz. A small name, but a big load of earth. 

Hilda. Unriddle me that, good Fritz. 

Fritz. Hans — asking pardon. 

Hilda. You need not ask pardon. 

Fritz. 'Tis not for me to speak ill of a knight. 

Hilda. Of Hans to me you may say what you 
please. 

Fritz. Why then, my lady, I'll take comfort to 
call him what he is, a cowardly braggart, and 
a bad genius to your father. 

Hilda. Yes, he is both at present, and he will be 
one as long as he lives ; but I think I shall win 
my father from him. 

Fritz. If I might have an old servant's leave — 

Hilda. Of course, Fritz. 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 106 



Fritz. Why, then, I will tell your ladyship how 
beautiful you are, and noble! You have 
changed suddenly and wondrously to my old 
eyes, "put away childish things," as the good 
book says, and become a woman in a day. 

Hilda. Oh! Fritz, Fritz! I have a dream in my 
heart ! 

Fritz. Of such dreams come such changes. But 
now I must tell you that the raging clatter of 
the Kobolds was not the only strange thing that 
befell last night. 
For some months past it hath been noised 

abroad 
That a new knight hath suddenly appeared. 
Most dexterous, brave, beautiful, honorable, 
Who hath been like some eagle flying through 
A banquet, in fro' th' dark and out to th' dark. 
Or like a crested star transported thwart 
A circle of the heavens, beheld and gone. 
So enters he a parliament of knights. 
Hath jousted and done wonders in the lists, 
Then disappears, unknown, unnamed, unques- 
tioned, 
But with each sudden presence the better famed 
For gallantry and grace and feats of arms. 
And rich caparison and noble steed. 
Now come two wonders touching this same 

knight : 
One wonder is that twice he hath been seen, 
Full armed, with lance aloft, but visor up. 
Showing a youthful face most brave, fair, gen- 
tle, 

107 ACT IV— SCENE 1 



A-th rough this little village galloping. 

The other miracle methinks I sole 

Have seen, for none this day my hints hath 

answered ; 
But certain 'tis that I last night beheld 
That unknown hero, horsed, in arms complete, 
Erected like a statue on yon peak 
Pedestaled, moveless as a figure carved. 
And bronzed in the full rondure of the moon, 
Whose golden quiet beams were spread above 
The horrid and black din that clung to the 

earth — 
There stood, I say, that noble wondrous knight. 
Gazing at your high window steadily. 
Which that one height commands. 
Hilda. Marvels indeed! 

Before my window? And no name is known? 
Fritz. Not certainly; rumor hath called him Tor- 
aid. 
HiivDA. Alas! my dreaming soul! Else my most 
seeming 
Vision that actual was! What can I think? 

During this talk between Hilda and Fritz it 
has grown dusk. Enters Wilbold, and enter 
servants who light lamps, and exeunt. Wilbold 
looks haggard and wretched, and also some- 
what sheep-faced after the fearful tumult and 
his still more fearful visit from Lady Bertha; 
but he is also angry and more stubborn than 
ever. 

WiL. Fritz! 
Fritz. My lord — 

WiL. As to this thing the Honey-Broth, you have 
told me there is an enforcing deed hid in the 

ACT IV — SCENE 1 108 



castle's archives? Is it true? 
Fritz. My lord! 

WiL. Nay, no ceremony. I say, Is it true? 
Fritz. My lord, I am an old man and speak the 

truth. 
WiL. Well, something in that. Bring me the deed. 

Exit Fritz. 
WiL. Well, Hilda, child, what of that business 
near 

My heart? 
Hilda. What is that business, father? 

WiL. What ! 

Nay, nay, pretend not ignorance, yet blush 
Confession; although I think your blush is 

harsh. 
The crimson of anger, not the pretty pink 
Of sweet and lovely shame. What is the mat- 
ter? 

Hilda. I will not marry Hans. 

WiL. Will not? Bold words! 

Hilda. You said you would not force me. 

WiL. Why, that's true. 

But have you reasoned of 't? 

Hilda. Oh, very well. 

WiL. A bold, rich knight— there's reason, my wish 

— there's reason. 
Hilda. And that I love him not— there's better 

reason. 

WiL. Tush ! tush ! 

Hilda is silent. WilboW looks at her askance 
a moment. 

109 ACT IV — SCENE 1 



Wily. I say, tush! tush! 
Hii^DA. What can I answer? 

Bethink you, father, that when I wed I promise 

To give all that I am, or can be, or have — 

Which doth include my love, my utmost love, 

Oh, my most fervent love, religious love! 

If then I marry loveless, 'tis my lie ; 

And if I wed unloved, another's lie ; 

And both of these in one are monstrous, base! 

I will not do it. 
WiL. Tush ! tush ! I say again. 

And tush it is — a whimsy, rubbish, stuff ! 

Now, hark 'e, Hilda — I married your mother 
kindly. 

But not in love, I never was in love. 

But kindly, and so I was — and she was happy. 
H11.DA. Ah ! Was she happy ? 
Wii.. Yes ! Who says not ? 
Hii,DA. I do ! 
WiL. Hilda! 

Hilda. My lord Wilbold and father, in me 

Behold a new-made thing, that is, but was not, 
A woman, but was not, my mother's child, but 

was not. 
I am as a sorry shrub, a wayside weed 
That, bulging under soil to two tap roots, 
Then suddenly puts forth a glorious bloom 
That travelers nor itself conceived lay in 't. 
One root's in a dream, one spears my mother's 

grave. 
My mother died when I was seven years old — 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 110 



I think 'tis so you tell me. 
WiL. Ay, 'tis so. 

Hilda. And that is thirteen years ago. 
WiL. Yes, child. 
Hilda. And you remember, sir, how suddenly 

At twelve years old I fevered to learn Latin ? 

WiL. Yes, yes. 

Hilda. You never asked the cause. 
WiL. The cause? 

Hilda. Yes ! Rummaging by chance in an old 
chest, 

I found my mother's journal, writ in Latin; 

That's why I studied. 
WiL. Well, she was ever a scholard. 

Hilda. Over and over I read that diary, 

With glossary painfully picking out the words, 
With grammar the meaning, until I had it by 

heart. 
In all those years I learned the language well — 
You know that, father — and conned those sa- 
cred pages 
With skill grammatical ; yet understood not 
The heart o' the words, albeit the phrase was 

plain. 
At last, but now, I dreamed — or was 't a 

dream ? 
Thing dreamed or actual, I cannot tell ; 
But dream or act, I came from it a woman ! 
And then I understood my mother's book. 
And knew the meaning of those mystical em- 
blems. 

Ill ACT IV— SCENE 1 



Wii.. Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well — 

what now? 
HiivDA. You say she was a happy wife. Not so ! 
Her words, now burning for me, blaze with 

the soul 
Of a heart-hungry woman! Of that she died. 
Starved in her soul and with starvation shamed 
To death. And I her girl am warned of her. 
Warned of my blessed mother pitifully. 
I will not wed unloving, nor unloved. 
WiL. Well, love him then. He swears that he 

loves you. 
Hilda. The Chevalier loves nothing but himself. 
WiL. Tush ! tush ! 

Notwithstanding Wilbold's trifling manner, he 
is moved by Hilda's words and manner and 
cannot help showing it. Hilda herself ends 
with much emotion. Enters a servant bearmg 
a large mass of roses. Hilda receives them, 
hides her face behind them, then turns away 
and arranges the roses in a large bowl or vase 
on the small table. Enters Fritz, with the 
parchment. 

Fritz. The deed, my lord. 
Wii.. Unroll it. 

Wilbold turns away. Fritz unrolls the parch- 
ment and holds it out toward Wilbold. Wil- 
bold turns slowly, looks at the parchment 
keenly, starts visibly and recoils a pace or two. 

Wih. 'Tis the same ! 

Fritz. What same, my lord? 

WiL. The same the ghost showed me last night. 

Fritz. Indeed, so, if any; there is but one deed, 

and this is it. 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 112 



WiL. Away with it! 

Fritz, Oh, my Lord Wilbold, if an old servant 
may — 

WiL. Away ! No, give it me ! I'll tear it. 

Fritz puts the parchment behind his back, 

WiL. Give it me, I say! 

Fritz slowly and tremblingly brings forward the 
paper, and is about to yield it to Wilbold, 
when Hilda, who has turned from the roses, 
rushes forward, snatches the deed and clasps 
it to her breast. Frtiz moves a little back and 
to side. Hilda stands drawn to her height, 
confronting Wilbold. 

Hilda. My lord father, you will tear me first ! 

Enters servant. 

Servant. My lord Baron, the guests have arrived 

and are readv. 

WiL. Show them in. 

Hilda hands the deed to Fritz, who exit with 
it. The servant throws wide open the double 
doors at left, goes out and immediately re- 
turns, ushering in knights and ladies, the 
Chevalier Hans with them. Hilda goes to 
meet them as they enter, receiving them with 
gracious courtesy, speaking and curtseying to 
each and so passing them on to Wilbold. 

Hilda. Welcome all ! My Lord and Lady of Stefif- 
hausen, you are reverently welcome. Sir Philip 
and Lady Ellen, your presence is gratefully 
desired. Sir Heinrich and Lady Gertrude, have 
as much pleasure to be here, I pray you, as it 
is pleasure to receive you. Chevalier Hans, you 
are a near neighbor and have a lodge here 
whenever you favor my father. My Lord and 
Lady of Sevenberg, you bring a grace to chal- 
lenge any welcome. Sir Gerhardt and Lady 

113 ACT IV — SCENE 1 



Elizabeth, you live not far and you come near 
in friendship. Sir Ludwig and Lady of Alsen, 
I thank you for your presence which is most 
welcome. My Lords and Ladies of Wandorf, 
of Amberg, of Barby, of Camentzburg, of 
Dahlenberg, of Fohr, know all what favor you 
bestow and accept greeting. And the same with 
all truth and good will to you, knights and la- 
dies of Hohenburg, Zahlstaufen and Verden. 

Wiiv. Brave knights and fair ladies, belike you 
think my summons rather sudden. 

One: of Gue^sts. Faith, my Lord Wilbold, we had 
to make speed. 

WiL. And I will tell you how it happened so. 

HiivDA. But first, my father, let us seat our friends. 
Please take your own place. I will take leave 
to sit at my father's left. Chevalier, as a near 
neighbor, will you take the right. Venerable 
and honored Lord and Lady of Steffhausen, 
will you sit next me? Sir Philip and Lady 
Ellen, will you honor the Chevalier? And all 
brave and fair friends, will you take places as 
may please you at this very off-hand regale- 
ment ? 

They all place themselves at table, Wilbold at 
the head at the middle and the others to right 
and left. One servant is present, behind Wil- 
bold's chair. When seated : 

Wii,. Neighbors and friends, knights and ladies, 

in the matter of this sudden summons — 

A horn or bugle call is heard, outside, and all 
at the table give attention to it. Enters 
servant. 

ACT IV — SCENE 1 114 



SERVANT. My lord Baron, there is a stranger 
knight at the gate, demanding hospitality. 

WiL. Troth, the gallant has a good nose. Give 
him water and bid him in, and say we will not 
call dinner till he comes. 
Exit servant. 

WiL. In the matter, I say, of this sudden summons, 
I am much beholden to you for your kind and 
ready presence. Now, the occasion of it is a 
certain old custom here, a yearly feast given 
to the peasantry and vassals of Wistgaw, called 
the Lady Bertha's Honey-Broth. 

Hans. We all know about the Honey-Broth, 
Baron. 

Wily. Good. But perhaps you do not know that 
all the ghosts, elves, and hobgoblins of the 
world seem to dote on the custom. Now, I have 
tired of gorging a crowd of yokels once a year, 
and so I pared down the feast a year ago, and, 
if you will credit me, the rascal elves, Kobolds, 
and ghosts, I know not what, made a noise at 
night and broke up my furniture to the exact 
cost of the usual feast. This year, not to be 
made a fool, henchman and cup-bearer in my 
own castle, I defied all their ghostships and 
gave no Honey-Broth at all; whereupon, last 
night the rogue spirits made such a din and 
did such crashing and pounding and breaking 
that what with the knocking at casements 
and banging of doors and cracking-up of fur- 
niture and howling, hooting and yelling of all 
the cattle and creatures, you would have sup- 

116 ACT IV — SCENE 1 



posed Bedlam had broken loose in the castle 
and out. 

Hans. Oh, Baron, this is too childish, green and 
innocent ! 

Wii.. You may pish and pshaw all you please, 
Chevalier, but that. is what happened; and fur- 
thermore, a devilish unpleasant ghost, supposed 
to be Lady Bertha, visited me at midnight, 
with a candle in her hand, and commanded me 
to give the Honey-Broth. 

Hans. Oh, Baron ! 

WiL. I'll not deny I was shaken; but at dawn I 
swore I'd not wear cap and bells for all their 
spookships, and called you all hither that I 
might give this pot-luck in defiance of all the 
bogies, and also that your lodgement in the 
castle to-night might quell the varlet nixes, 
though I think they'll rap no more for another 
year. 

Hans. By my head, my Lord Baron, you edu- 
cate cheek, chin, brow, eyes and nose. 

WiL. How's that. Chevalier? 

Hans. In keeping a straight face. Baron. 

Hilda rises. 

Hilda. You know too much or not enough. Cheva- 
lier, 
Too much for mortals, or not enough for you. 
My noble friends, I wish I might prevail 
To move your intercession with my father. 
They tell me 'twas a very horrible din, 
Yet slumbered I, not tost, rocked by the noise 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 116 



Like to a sea bird on a roaring wave; 

From which I gather the spirits have no ire 

Against our house, but only will enforce 

The Lady Bertha's pledge perpetual. 

Is't not a goodly wont, first in itself, 

Blithe charity, and then by age? Lords, ladies. 

Move ye my father to give the Honey-Broth, 

For me, our folk, the sprites, appeasing all. 

A servant opens the door left and Torald en- 
ters, advances toward the front and greets the 
company with a courtly bow. at which all 
the company rise, Hilda, at first glance, has 
paled, trembled, and as the company stand she 
sinks into her chair, and under cover of their 
attention to the knight she presses hands on 
brow, temples and eyes as if to make sure she 
is awake and then flushing and trembling 
stares at Torald. 

Torald. My gracious lord Baron, I perceive this 
is very high company, as it must be at Wist- 
gaw ; but I am sure your goodness of heart 
will make me no intruder, though uninvited 
and a wayfarer. I am an honorable Knight, 
my lord. 

WiL, By my faith. Sir Knight, your words but 
repeat your face and bearing. You are right 
welcome. Tell us your name. 

Torald. I am called the Chevalier Torald. 

On hearing that name the company murmur 
and look at each other, and then gaze on the 
knight with respect and admiration. 

WiL. Your fame has come to Wistgaw before you ; 

Hke a trusty herald. Chevalier. . 

Hilda rises and with effort commands her 
emotion, yet not wholly. 

Hilda. My lord father, shall I yield my place 

117 ACT IV— SCENE 1 



by you to grace the honorable stranger? 
ToRAi^D. By no means, gentle and lovely lady. I 
will seat me here. 

Torald goes to seat at foot of table, left, and 
all are seated again. 

Wii.. Now call the dinner. 

Hans. A moment, Baron; let us finish this mat- 
ter of the Honey-Broth, with leave of your new 
guest. 

ToRAivD. I have heard much of the Lady Bertha's 
Honey-Broth — a far-famed festival. 

Hans. This I say, friend Baron, as I have said 
before to you, and now to all these Knights 
and high dames, that I would give not one 
spoon-sip of Honey-Broth to these yokels, not 
I, nor be troubled with rogue ghosts and nixes, 
either, if there be any such things. 

WiL. And what would you do with the ghosts 
and urchins. Chevalier Hans? 

Hans. I would conjure them, my lord Baron, so 
that it should please them to scramble out of 
my way in a thrice. 

WiL. A bold word taken up ! Look you now, 
Chevalier, appease the Spirit of Lady Bertha, 
and pack off the Kobolds, and I'll give you 
anything you ask. 

Hans. Anything ? 

WiL. Yes, by all the line of Wistgaw, anything. 

Hans. Have a care — anything? 

WiL. I have said it. 

Hans. Even the Lady Hilda's hand? 

ACT IV— SCENE 1 118 



WiL. Well — I have said it. 

Here there is great stir among the guests, and 
Torald, leaning forward, gazes sternly at 
Hans. Hilda is greatly distressed. 

Hilda. My lord father! 
WiL. I say yes, Hilda; my word is passed. 
Hilda. But I had your word first, my father; 
you said you would not compel me. 

WiL. Why — yes; but that was only a fatherly in- 
tention, not a Baron's promise, a Knight's word. 

Hilda leaves the table in tears and agitation 
and goes to door right, 

WiL. Hilda, why away? Stay here, with our 

guests, where your place is ! 

Hilda returns slowly from the door toward 
front and center. 

Hilda. 'Tis true, my father, here's my place and 
duty — 
I'll sit in one, submit me to the other; 
And that I would have fled from either, for- 
give. 
The heart-quake of a frightened desolate girl 
O'erthrew my towers and left my manners un- 

chambered. 
I crave the pardon of all. But, oh! to whom, 
To whom, to what or whither can I appeal. 
My lords and ladies, in this case so hard? 
Not to my father, — he pleads his knightly word ; 
And not to you, his peers in custom leagued, 
Parents yourselves, whose girls must not rebel. 
I'd gladly vanish in my mother's bosom. 
Or willingly invoke the Lady Bertha, 
My blessed ancestress, than whom no soul 

119 ACT IV — SCENE 1 



More saintly, ever lived on earth or went to 

heaven ; 
Ay, or the Kobolds, faithful elves, her friends. 
Friends of our house, let who say what who 

will; 
On all things heavenly, earthly, or dreamed of 

men, 
I may with warrant call ! And this I say, 
I will not, will not, wed the Chevalier Hans, 
Will not — nay, I'll be torn with pincers first 
And die by shreds. 

WiL. Hilda, too much ! Be done ! 

ToRALD. My lord Baron, a word. Will you grant 

the same offer to another, even to me, when 

the Chevalier Hans fails? 

Hans. How? Fails? By my head, sir, say you 

I shall fail? 
ToRALD. Yes, Chevalier, you will fail. 
Hans. By my sword. Baron, your new acquaint- 
ance is troubled with a frankness that smacks 

of something else. 
ToRALD. No reflection. Chevalier. I say you will 

fail because you undertake what no man can do. 
Hans. Why, sir, 'tis no man's part to say what 

/ can do. 
ToRALD. I ask you, my lord Baron, if you will 

grant me the same great and heavenly offer, 

if the Chevalier Hans fails? 
WiL. Your knightly fame is ample, Sir Torald, 

but I know naught of your family. 
ToRAivD. I will satisfy you on that score. Baron; 

ACT IV — scene 1 120 



indeed, I will show you that I share your own 

worth — I mean, we are kin. 

WiL. Why on that understanding, Sir Torald, yes, 

my daughter awaits you on the same terms 

promised the Chevalier Hans. 

Hilda clasps her hands, bows her head and 
falls tremblingly on her knees at the small 
table, half hidden from Torald by the roses. 

Wii.. But how is this, Sir Torald! Just now you 
said my friend Hans undertakes what no man 
can do, yet you essay the same thing. 

Torald. Not quite the same, Baron, for I honor 
the Honey-Broth. 

WiL. I will promise no Honey-Broth. 

Torald. But I will promise it. 

WiL. Sooth, I must own you speak riddles, and 
riddles not all to my mind. 

Torald. I crave your patience for a few liours. 

Baron. 

Torald goes to Hilda, takes her hand and lifts 
her up. 

Torald. And I will win this heavenly maid, and 

then give her back to herself, for her to make 

her own gift of herself to whom she will, and 

if to me, high Heaven be praised ! Dear lady 

let me lead you to your place. 

Torald leads Hilda in courtly manner to Wil- 
bold's left hand and returns to his own seat 
at left end of table. Hans has been showing 
a doubtful mind, in fact, his fears are rising. 

Hans. You may think, Baron Wilbold, that the 
first trial belongs by courtesy to your stranger 
guest, and I think so too, and will — 

121 act IV — SCENE 1 



WiL. By no means, friend Hans. The first trial 
is yours. 

Hans. But I will yield the advantage. 

ToRAi^D. I will accept it. 

WiL. I say no, Chevalier. All shall be as first 
declared. 

Hans. Well, well, 'tis small matter — nonsense, 
anyway — the spirits will not come. 

ToRAivD. You are mistaken, Chevalier, they will 

come. 

Hans is sorely frightened, turns pale and is 
silenced. 

WiL. 'Tis all determined, and friend Hans will 

make trial of the spirits this very night in the 

great bed chamber of the castle. And now call 

the dinner; but first bring red wine and fill 

all the glasses. 

Exit servant who at once re-enters with others 
who carry decanters of wine from which they 
fill the goblets on the table. Wilbold stands 
and then Hilda rises by his side, they lift their 
glasses, the servants are grouped, the guests 
postured and follows a long tableau. 



Curtain. 



ACT IV — SCENE 1 122 



ACT IV— SCENE 2. 

SCENE — The great bed chamber of the castle, same as 
Act I — Scene 2. The stage is utterly dark and 
black. Enters a servant carrying a small torch, and 
the stage lights up dimly, yet so as to make things 
plainly visible. Enter then Fritz and servants. 

Fritz. Light up the big lamp, lad. 

The servant carrying the torch kindles the 
lamp, and the stage at once is amply lighted. 

Fritz. Now lay wood, and kindle a fire. 

First Serv. Why, 'tis good summer weather. 

Fritz. Ay, by day, but 'tis chilly to-night, and so 

the Baron orders. 

Servants lay and kindle a fire in the great 
chimney, which soon blazes up brightly. Mean- 
while : 

First Serv. What o'clock may it be? 

Fritz. It lacks a half of midnight. 

Second Serv. 'Tis a strange freak, this, Master 

Steward. 

Fritz. Nay, that big boaster. Chevalier Hans, got 
well trapped in his own bluster. 

Second Serv. And will the Kobolds come? 
Fritz. Sooth, they will, depend on it; the sturdy 
sprites will not be wanting at a challenge. 

Enter Wilbold, several knights and ladies and 
Hans. Hans is in full armor, with hugh 
sword and a poniard. Wilbold carries a large 
key. 

123 ACT IV — SCENE 2 



WiL. By all the stones of Wistgaw, friend Hans, 
methinks you are Fortune's baby. 'Tis not 
every Chevalier that has chance to win spurs 
and watch his arms twice, once against this 
world and once against another. You will be 
in a sorry plight to-morrow morning, or else 
I will clap you o' the shoulder as a twice- 
belted knight. 

Hans. By all the bogies, Baron Wilbold, that ever 
were, or never were, how many knightings 
would you have? Methinks one is enough. 
But as you are minded to this foolery, so be it ; 
have the flat of your sword ready in the morn- 
ing. 

Wiiv. My sword is ready, and my good will too, 
which I leave with you, my dear Hans. No 
one can come or go by yonder balcony — 'tis a 
dizzy height of sheer smooth wall; and I will 
double-lock this door and keep the key myself. 
So good night, Chevalier — a good night indeed ! 

Exit Wilbold, and all with him, the locking 
of the door is heard and Hans is left alone. 
He looks around him slowly, with evident 
fear, but with effort to keep his courage up. 

Hans. If I could get out now and get in at dawn, 

that would suit my humor. 

He examines and pulls at the door softly, 
looks up and down the walls, sounding them 
here and there, looks out through the bal- 
cony door and turns away with a shudder, 
examines the chimney and fireplace. 

Hans. Caged, that's certain. But if I can not 

get out, no one can get in. Good! Spirits? 

Pooh, pooh ! But they all tell of them. Pooh, 

pooh ! I never saw one. 

ACT IV— SCENE 2 124 



Hans starts suddenly and stares at the door, 
then starts again and whirls around and stares 
at the balcony door. 

Hans. Pooh, pooh ! If they come, they come — 
ugh! But if they come not — pooh, pooh! ha! 
— I will have a fine battle to tell in the morn- 
ing, and win the pretty Hilda, who, methinks, 
will not be so pert after a little. 

Hans sits down in the big arm-chair. A bell 
slowly strikes twelve. A loud knock sounds 
from the door. Hans half starts from the 
chair, leaning on it, and half whirls around 
toward the door, shaking. The doors of the 
balcony fly open, with a dismal, long wail 
of the wind. Hans runs to the doors and 
closes them, leaning his weight against them. 
A noise is heard at the chimney. Hans runs 
and throws wood on the fire, which flashes 
up brightly. But at the same moment a wide 
plank appears, pushing out from the chimney 
over the flames, advancing in a long slant to 
the floor. Hans retreats before it and sinks 
into the arm-chair again. The plank coming 
to rest and forming a bridge over the flames, 
a company of Kobolds, flying a banner and 
pennants, come marching down the plank, and 
in the middle walks King Kohlibran. Yoho 
marches a little to one side behind the King. 
Some of the Kobolds carry trumpets. They 
descend the plank to the floor, marching in 
admirable order to music of the trumpets. 
They march once around the room, and then 
move toward Hans, who backs his chair away 
till the wall stops his further retreat. Then 
the Kobolds halt, the music ceases, and the 
King advances near Hans. Yoho follows. 

Kohl. Chevalier Hans, we are informed of your 
boast that you will conjure and drive away the 
spirits of the Castle of Wistgaw, and we have 
heard your valor and prowess much famed. 
True, it was famed by yourself, but as a true 
knight can speak only the truth, we must be- 

125 ACT IV— SCENE 2 



lieve you are a doughty warrior. Therefore, 

the spirit of Lady Bertha allows me to meet 

you in her place, to do battle with you; and 

she promises, and I promise for the Kobolds, 

that if you overcome me, we will depart from 

this castle and never return. I challenge you 

to combat — there lies my glove. 

Kohlibran throws at the Chevalier's feet a very 
diminutive gauntlet, and the trumpets sound 
a martial flourish. Hans stares at his small 
enemy, picks up the glove, sets it on his little 
finger and regards it with a smile of reviv- 
ing bravado. 

YoHo. By our Kobold's hill, Unkie, you were a 
good Unkie to let me come with you. For now 
I see why the big Chevalier was made so big, 
to wit, to show off your majesty's glove. Sooth, 
it sits his little finger neatly, like a spry bird 
on a twig of a gnarled old tree. 

Kohl. Well, Chevalier Hans, do you accept my 
challenge ? 

Hans. But with what shall we fight, my pretty 
manikin ? 

Kohl. Each with his usual weapon, you with your 
sword, I with my whip. 

Hans. What! With your whip? 
Kohl. Yes, 'tis my ordinary weapon ; for as I am 
a small being, I require a long reach. 
At this Hans laughs derisively. 
Hans. Do you mean to fight me with a whip? 

Kohl. Assuredly. Have I not told you 'tis my 
weapon ? 

Hans. And you will use no other? 

ACT IV — scene 2 12« 



Kohl. No. 

Hans. You promise me. 

Kohl. On the word of a Knight and King. 

Hans chuckles more derisively than before. 

Hans. Then I accept your challenge. 

Kohlibran speaks to two Kobolds, who im- 
mediately melt into the wall and disappear. 
Meantime Yoho advances and makes a low 
ironical bow to Hans. 

Hans. Motley, what's your business? 

YoHO. To advise the Chevalier to beware — 

Hans. Beware ? Ha ! — 

YoHO. Of King Kohlibran's whip. 

Hans. Pah! Go to! 

YoHO. 'Tis a fiery thing. 

Hans. Belike you have felt it. 

Yoho. 'Tis for his foes, the Kobolds' foes, Lady 

Bertha's foes. You will feel it. 

Hans. Away, motley manikin ! 

YoHO. As your excellency pleases — which will be 
to howl very soon. The whip has five lashes 
of fine gold chains, each ending with a dia- 
mond as large as a pea, which will pierce your 
pretty armor as 'twere paste, and cut and sting 
your flesh horribly. Go your way! 

Hans. Bah! Begin when you will. 

KoHL. 'Tis surely known to you, Sir Knight, 
That when a hero is to fight, 
He prays it be beneath the beams 
Of th' eyes o' the lady of his dreams; 
By her sweet praise and sweeter eyes 

127 ACT IV— scene 2 



He doth his deeds of best emprize. 
Therefore, my servants have I sent 
With this most knightly true intent, 
To bring her by our fairy ways, 
Your valor both to raise and praise. 
The Lady Hilda had not slept 
But pious watch at window kept. 
Sweet vigils, filled with maiden prayer 
Not whispered even to the air. 
To slumber charmed, they lead her here, 
And now she comes, she doth appear; 
Of what avail are human locks 
Whenas a canty fairy knocks ! 

The great doors fly open of themselves and 
the two Kobolds enter backward, beckoning 
and charming Hilda onward, who comes walk- 
ing in sleep, eyes closed. The doors shut, the 
large chair still is close against the wall, and 
the Kobolds guide Hilda and seat her in the 
chair. Thus a clear space is left for the en- 
counter. Kohlibran turns to Hans. 

Kohl. Ready. Draw, Chevalier. Yoho, bring me 

my whip. 

Yoho comes with the whip. As he passes Hans 
he stops and shows the whip to him. 

Yoho. Look, big Hans ! Here are the big diamonds 

I told you of. I tell you again they will go 

through your armor like light through glass. 

You'll think a thousand wasps and a hundred 

cats are clawing and stinging you. But go your 

way. Speak not to the fool according to his 

folly. Ho ! ho ! 

KoHi,. Yoho ! 

Yoho runs to Kohlibran and delivers the whip. 
YoHO. Pardon, Unkie, I hardly could get around 

ACT IV — SCENE 2 128 



the Chevalier Mountain. 
KoHi,. Mountain? 
YoHO. Truly — so big a load of earth, and nothing 

at the peak of it. Oh, Unkie ! 

Kohlibran goes to Hilda, and waves his hands 
gently over her head. 

Kohl. Awake ! Yet let this pageant seem 

The medley of a half-waked dream ! 

Hilda opens her eyes. 

Kohl. Now, ChevaHer, have at you! 

The trumpets again sound a flourish. Kohli- 
bran approaches Hans, threatening with his 
whip. Hans aims and strikes a terrific blow 
at Kohlibran, but the nimble Kobold leaps 
aside, the sweep of the huge sword swings 
Hans completely around, and the King brings 
down his whip on Hans' back. Hans starts 
violently, utters a cry, and claps his hands 
to his back, letting his sword fall. The trum- 
pets cease. 

KoHL. Recover your sword. Chevalier; but if you 

lose it again, I'll not hold for you. 

With a very wry and raging and frightened 
face, Hans picks up his sword, the trumpets 
sound, and the fight goes on. Soon Hans 
strikes a furious blow downward, which Kohli- 
bran avoids, and the sword sticks fast in the 
floor. While Hans tries to withdraw it, Kohli- 
bran falls on him with the whip and so lashes 
him that soon Hans forsakes his sword and 
runs away, writhing and howling. Kohlibran 
pursues him around the room, up and down 
over the furniture and bed, as he tries to es- 
cape the lash, and at last Hans falls on his 
knees, begging mercy. The trumpets cease. 
During this affray, Hilda has been very highly 
amused and yet pitifully concerned, too. 

KoHL. Chevalier Hans, you are no better than an 
old woman. Armor, sword and poniard be- 

129 ACT IV — SCENE 2 



come you not. You should have a gown, a dis- 
taff and a spindle. 

The trumpets play gaily but softly. Kohlibran 
signs to the Kobolds, who surround Hans, take 
off his armor bit by bit, and place the pieces 
with the sword and poniard on the floor. Kohli- 
bran waves his hand over them, they disap- 
pear, and in their place is a heap of women's 
garments, in which the Kobolds dress Hans, 
including the tying on of a cap which looks 
grotesque with his fierce moustache. A distaff 
with a spindle is put into Hans' girdle. Then 
the Kobolds hold their sides and sway with 
merry laughter and jeers which make a har- 
mony with the trumpet music. Hilda is merry 
too, yet again pitiful. 

Kohl. Seat him, hide him, and steep him in slum- 
ber. 

Hans is led to a chair in a corner, seated, 
charmed to sleep by the waving of the Kobolds' 
hands, and a screen drawn around him. 

Kohl. This hath been brief and easy. Time 

Still waits before the sun will climb 

Over our hill. Torald shall take 

His watch this self-same night, and make 

Once more the Honey-Broth secure. 

And Lady Bertha's deed endure. 

This night no moment doth he sleep 

But vigil worshipful doth keep 

Upon the lone and chilly height 

From which he can with true love's sight 

The Lady Hilda's window see. 

Go bring him hither instantly. 

Two Kobolds immediately melt into the wall 
and disappear. 

KoHL. Charm back the maiden slumbering, 
Then leave her waked and wondering. 

ACT IV — SCENE 2 130 



Two Kobolds charm Hilda to sleep by waving 
their hands around her, then beckon and 
charm her away through the great doors, which 
open for them and close again. Then the two 
Kobolds and Torald are seen slowly floating 
down through the air onto the balcony. 

YoHO. Here he comes, like a buzzard. 
Kohl. A buzzard? How now, Knave. 
YoHO. A buzzard is but a bird, and birds come 
through the air. Oh, Unkie! 

The glass doors open and Torald enters. Ko- 
bolds move the big chair from the wall to 
center. Kohlibran and all the Kobolds salute 
Torald kindly, but silently, with fingers on 
lips, then melt away into the stone wall till 
all are gone and Torald is alone. 

Tor. Truly my friends the Kobolds have their 

own ways. I think I am to have my trial-watch 

to-night. Good ! The sooner to woo the lovely 

Lady Hilda. What have they done with the 

Chevalier Hans I wonder? Well, I have only 

to wait, and if I sleep, 'tis well in this manner 

of watch. 

Torald extinguishes the lamp, the stage be- 
comes slightly dim. He sits in the great chair. 
The fire is dying down, and the stage grows 
dimmer. Torald sleeps. The fire flickers and 
goes out, and the stage becomes densely dark. 
Then the spirit of Lady Bertha appears sud- 
denly, just as in Act first, standing near Torald, 
and the chamber is brilliant with the light that 
streams from her. She awakens Torald with 
a loving laying of her hand on his forehead. 
He shows no fear. 

Lady Bertha. Herman, for the second time I re- 
turn to you ; the first time, I came to take you 
away; now I come to restore you to your es- 
tate. You have justified my wishes and sur- 

131 ACT IV — SCENE 2 



passed my hopes. Now, my brave, honorable 
Knight, you shall be acknowledged, as you are, 
the rightful lord of Wistgaw. In witness 
whereof, I show you a secret. Attend, ap- 
proach. 

The Lady Bertha goes to the wall to left of 
the balcony door, Herman following. She 
touches the wall, and it opens, showing a cur- 
tain hanging over the opening. 

Lady Bertha. This veil I hung here, now I re- 
move it. 

She pulls away the curtain, disclosing a great 
treasure of gems, and gold and silver vessels, 
and ingots. 

Lady Be:rtha. This treasure I hid here in times of 

war and danger. None knew it but my lord. 

Count Osmond, and he hath forgotten it in his 

age. It is yours. The wall will open for you 

at the name of the lovely Hilda, whom you 

shall wed. Receive my blessing. 

She kisses Herman on the forehead, then 
touches the wall and it closes. 

ToRALD. Dear Grandmother, in the Lady Hilda 

you give me what you came from, heaven ! 

The light streaming from Lady Bertha almost 
ceases, but not quite, leaving her for a mo- 
ment a dim vision, then that also vanishes. 
But the stage is quite dark only for a mo- 
ment; the morning red faintly shows through 
the balcony doors. It grows slowly brighter. 
Torald goes to the great chair, falls on his 
knees by it for a moment, then rises and sits 
in it. 

ToRALD. Come, morning, and with it come the 
brighter dawn of my hopes, the dear and radi- 
ant girl, more lovely than yonder rosy east. 

A Kobold emerges from the wall behind and 

ACT IV— SCENE 2 132 



waves his hands around Herman, who thus is 
charmed to sleep. The Kobold melts into the 
wall. The light brightens into full morning. 
Soon a soft murmur and sound is heard out- 
side, the lock is quietly turned, the doors are 
opened by Fritz, and Wilbold, Hilda, Knights 
and Ladies, enter softly. Great astonishment is 
manifested. 

WiL. Sooth, the gallant Knight seems very much 

at ease. If the spirits have come they have been 

mighty comfortable to him. But by all those 

same spirits, what has become of friend Hans ? 

Methinks it is well to rouse this sleeper and 

ask questions. Ho ! Chevalier Torald ! What 

news. Chevalier? Ho! 

Torald opens his eyes quietly, then rises and 
salutes the company, with special courtly recog- 
nition of Hilda. 

Wii.. You must know that we are in the very suf- 
focation of curiosity. Chevalier. 

Her. As to what, Baron? 

WiL. As to what, indeed? Sooth everything. 
How came you hither? What has happened? 
And where is the Chevalier Hans ? 

Her. I was brought hither by our friends, the Ko- 
bolds, the Lady Bertha has come to me and 
made much revelation, and as to the Chevalier 
Hans I know nothing. He was not here when 
I came. 

WiL. Body o* me, have they spirited away my old 
crony ? 

Hilda. My lord and father, mayhaps I can ex- 
plain. 

WiL. Ha! You? 

Hilda. Whether in the body or out of the body, 

133 ACT IV—SCENB 2 



I know not, whether in dream or in action, I 
came hither last night and saw the Chevalier 
Hans do battle with the King of the Kobolds, 
the Chevalier using his sword and the king his 
whip. 

WiL. How! A whip? Fight Hans with a whip? 

Hilda. 'Twas a whip having a handle of the clear- 
est and most shining ivory and five lashes of 
gold chains, each tipped with a large diamond; 
and I heard the King's jester tell the Chevalier 
Hans that the diamonds would cut through his 
armor as it were so much paste, and torment 
his flesh horribly. And so it was. With that 
whip the King so belabored the Chevalier that 
presently he let go his sword and ran about 
the room, up and down, over the furniture, 
howling monstrously, till he fell on his knees 
begging mercy. Then the Kobolds, making 
very merry over him, stripped oi¥ his armor, 
and dressed him like an old woman, even to a 
cap on his head tied under his chin; and they 
put a distafif and spindle in his girdle. Then I 
heard the King command his servants to bring 
the Chevalier Torald hither, from which, find- 
ing him here as we have, methinks that pos- 
sibly these things were no dream but done in 
act, and I too was led hither by the Kobolds. 
But first the sprites set Hans in a chair and 
charmed him asleep and drew yonder screen 
around him. 

WiL. What say you? The screen? Fritz, re- 
move it. 

ACT IV— SCENE 2 134 



Fritz pulls away the screen, disclosing Hans 
asleep in the chair. They all stare silently a 
moment, then look at each other, then break 
into merry laughter. Whereat Hans awakes. 

WiL. By the towers of all of us, friend Hans, you 

have invented a merry sport. 
Hans. It seems a Uttle odd, Baron — 
WiL. Troth, yes, monstrous odd — 
Hans. But it worked well. I have done the deed 

and claim the Lady Hilda. 
WiL. The deed? 
Hans. Met the spirit of the Lady Bertha and laid 

it forever. 
WiL. But this dress! 

Hans. Ah ! there's a shrewd bit of wit. The ghost 

being a woman methought this attire suitable, 

and this distaff and spindle the best weapons 

to meet her with. 

WiL. Well, something in that. But how came you 

by this toggery — I left you well locked in? 
Hans. I had it under my armor. 
WiL. But where is your armor, Chevalier? 

Hans looks about helplessly and foolishly. 
WiL. My daughter here says she saw the Kobolds 
strip you of your iron, putting this cloth on you, 
and beheld you brought to begging by a whip. 
Stand forth Hilda. 

Hilda, who has been withdrawn and hidden 
among the ladies since Hans awoke, now ap- 
pears in front. 

WiL. What say you? 

Hilda. My dear father, 'tis true. But what will 

135 ACT IV — SCENE 2 



you with the Chevalier? You, and all these 
true knights and ladies are too chivalrous, and 
gentle to prick a fallen man with sword or wit. 

WiL. Sooth, something in that. Chevalier, some- 
thing in that. Methinks, Chevalier, you will 
be pleased now to change your attire. 
Exit Hans, crestfallen. 

Wii,. Now, Hilda, say what befell Sir Torald, and 
how he came hither. 

Hilda. My father, I saw him not. After witness- 
ing the ill-luck of Sir Hans, I fell asleep, and 
when I awoke in the red dawn I was kneeling at 
my chamber casement. 

A noise outside as of shouts, hooting and jeer- 
ing. 

Wiiv. The children of the village baiting Sir Hans. 
I fear they will pelt him well. 
Enters a servant hastily. 

Serv. My lord Baron, all the children of the vil- 
lage and many folk in a great rabble are chasing 
the Chevalier Hans, or one who looks like him, 
dressed like an old woman, heading him off 
and turning him about, pelting him with clods, 
sticks and stones. 

Hii^DA. Go quickly and ask the people to let Sir 
Hans alone, for my sake. 
Exit servant. 

WiL. Sooth, I think he gets no more than his 
bargain. 

HiivDA. Who dares pray for his own deserts ? 

WiL. Well, something in that. Now, Sir Torald? 

ACT IV— SCENE 2 136 



Her. My lord Baron, what I have to tell is like 
gold, a small heap, but weighty. The Lady 
Bertha of Wistgaw, my grandmother, came 
back from heaven, took me, a child, from my 
cradle and gave me to the Kobolds to rear. 

Wiiv. What? What? Sir Torald, is your name 
Herman ? 

Her. It is, my lord. 

WiL. You are the child Herman that disappeared? 

Her. I am, my lord Baron. 'Tis but now that I 
have returned to live with men. Last night the 
Kobolds brought me hither through the air, 
snatching me from the bare height of the hill 
where I was watching with love the window ©f 
the Lady Hilda. The Lady Bertha came to me 
here, blessed me, said I should be acknowledged 
the rightful lord of Wistgaw, and in proof 
thereof gave me power to open with a charmed 
word the wall yonder, where lies hidden a great 
treasure. This to be true I do engage my 
honor; and the Honey-Broth is promised, and 
the spirits of the castle will trouble you no more. 

WiL. Let me see the wall open. Chevalier. 

Her. The charmed word is the name of your 

daughter, uttered by me. Behold! 

Herman goes to the wall, touches it, says, 
"Hilda," and the wall opens as before, disclos- 
ing the treasure. 

WiL. By all the good ghosts in heaven, kinsman. 
I bear you no grudge for your return. Wist- 
gaw is yours, and welcome. 

Her. And — for your lovely daughter, Baron. 

137 ACT IV— SCENE 2 



Wii.. Troth, she is yours, too, by my knightly 
word. 

Fritz approaches, trembling with fervent loyalty 
and eagerness, and peers into Herman's face. 

Fritz. May an old servant look closely? 

Hkr. Honest Fritz, I know your place and your 
worth. 

Fritz. What my old heart hath weened, mine eyes 
behold 
With youth-retrieving sight ! Blest lineaments ! 
Blest Nature, that doth hold congenial lines, 
Chiseling frame and face from antique models, 
Childing the forebears with their daughter's 

girl, 
Or making them twice the parents of a son ! 
You dear memorial of Lady Bertha, 
Eke of the noble Osmond framed in her. 
Gold potency gold framed, I see them both 
In your fair countenance, by them know you— 
Your ancestry is writ from brow to chin. 
Oh, my young master, dear, most dear young 

master. 
My old heart's like a populous loyalty 
That hails you to recovered coronation. 
Now let thy servant, lord, depart in peace 
In thine own time ! Mine eyes have seen thy 

glory ! 
Hi:r. O good old servant, live, live long, for us, 

Honored and trusted as your virtue claims. 
Fritz. Ay, ay! for you. You say for us. For 

whom ? 

ACT IV — SC?ENE 2 138 



Her. Sooth, yes, you're shrewdly right, my honest 
Fritz ; 
Now must I speak unto the Lady Hilda 
In humble wooing what you I spake in hope. 
Most dear and lovely lady, if your father's 
Paternal right giveth me right in you, 
Now do I reinstate you in that right ; 
Being given you, I give you back to you. 
And with yourself endow you. Both are free. 
You to bestow your treasury of love 
As your heart wills, and I to woo. I ne'er 
Were free to woo any but a free lady. 
Now, lovely queen, queen of yourself, and 

queen 
Of loveliness, shall I have leave to woo? 
Answer from a free heart. 

Hilda. Alas ! Sir Knight, 

You give me freedom, yet I am not free — 
I am no longer powered to grant that warrant. 

Her. Is't possible? You love another! Farewell! 
Madam, I go ; you shall remain forever 
Of Wistgaw mistress. 

Hilda. Honorable knight, 

Vouchsafe me first with you a private word. 

Exeunt, with show of great respect, Wilbold 
and all the Knights and Ladies. 

Hilda. The aged count liveth in my concern — 
This whirl of dear events hath snatched me 

from him — 
Yet must he this new day have crept abroad — 
Find him, good Fritz — come tell me of him 
soon. 
Exit Fritz. 

139 ACT IV — SCENE L 



Hilda. Now must I speak, with maiden hesitation, 
Dear gentle knight, and yet with simple truth 
That should, methinks, brook not to falter or 

fear. 
Have you forgotten, dear my lord, that night 
When we together were i' the Kobolds' cave, 
And danced? 

He:r. Not I. Did not you think it a dream? 

HiivDA. I did, and yet did not. It grew too sweet 
To be unreal. Your dear memorial ways 
With all your manful care and tenderness 
Became a wooing, and I was wooed and won 
In precious reveries, exploring love. 
Then when you entered at the banquet hall, 
I knew you instantly, with you all love. 
And love was life, and life was love, my lord. 
Behold, dear knight, behold now why I said 
I was no longer powered to grant a warrant 
To woo me, being already wooed — and won. 

Her. O joy! May't not be heaven, though 'tis 
not foreign? 
To what can I compare you, my sweet love, 
To what compare you, or how can I name you. 
Since all words veil their faces? Light's too 

harsh. 
The air too wayward, water is too dim; 
Naught but the sweetness and significance 
Of Nature's total rondure tallies with you, 
Blue firmanent and green reflective earth 
And all that's fair, soft, vocal, flourished be- 
tween. 
Sweet lady, you see me as I am, a man 

ACT rV— SCENE 2 140 



Untaught to woo, unchartered to't before, 
Unchartered eke with offerings save myself ; 
For I would hack my soul from the immortals 
Ere point a question at these lands — thine, 

thine ! 
In family I am but as thyself, 
No less illustrious, but yet no more; 
In naught am rich above thee, in naught equal 
Save love and kin, one mine, the other ours; 
And for what's mine, my love to thee, in that 
Challenge I dare e'en thee better to love, 
Belike as well, since thou art worthier loved. 
Dear love, you prove earth may build heaven. 

And so 
My sweet, mine own, beloved and thrice be- 
loved, 
And thrice that thrice, lady, by your leave. 
The betrothal kiss. 
Her. Ah ! let me hear your voice music my name. 

Hilda. Is not Herman hard to pronounce, my 
lord? 

Her. Ay, so it is, as difficult as — Hilda: 
Yet you did very well ; try soon again. 

Hilda. Ah, me ! if you so sweetly speak my name 
When I say yours, I'll utter yours all day. 
Enters Fritz. 

Fritz. My lady, the count comes, and following 

him are Rollo and Grun, perplexed and 

troubled, striving with him to no effect. 

Enter Count Osmond, Rollo and Grun. The 
old Count is very vacant and dim in face and 
manner. 

RoLLO. Indeed, my lady, we did all we could to 

141 ACT IV— SCENE 2 



wile him about the park and keep him outdoors ; 
but he seemed smitten with a sudden will to 
come hither and we could not persuade him. 

Grun. My lady, he seemed not even to hear what 
we said, and we dared not put hands to him, 
though we feared he should not come to this 
room and the things here on this day of days. 

Hilda. My Herman, I perceive some difference, 
some change in your dear aged grandfather. 

Grun. 'Tis true, my lady ; he was abroad with the 

first ray of dawn, very restless and would not 

be stayed, and seemed weaker and waning, and 

babbled strangely. 

Hilda at once goes to the old Count and de- 
votes herself to him. 

Count O. My angel — ^yes, the same — mine! 

Where have you been? Was it so hard to get 

out of heaven to-day? 
Hilda. 'Tis never hard to come to you. 
Count O. I could not find you. 
Hilda. Now you have found me. 
Count O. Yes, yes. 

The old Count moves about, very weakly and 
restlessly, Hilda keeping close to him, the oth- 
ers grouping according to his movements. Sud- 
denly he sees tHe open wall and the treasure. 
He stops and stares, seems struck or shocked 
with memory, trembles, then grows firmer and 
stronger, and knows Hilda. 

Count O. Hilda! Little Hilda! Never far or 
long from the old man. Yonder? I had for- 
gotten — have not thought — but I remember it — 

ACT IV— scene 2 142 



something buzzes in my old head — we put it 
there. 

Hilda. You, dear grandsire? 

Count O. I and my lady, my Bertha — for Her- 
man — I have not thought for a long time, but 
I remember now — she took Herman away — 
but he will come again. I am to see him — 'twas 
certain I should see him ! 

Hilda. Such memory returns at the extreme hour. 
I fear our dear grandsire verges to the bar, my 
Herman. 

Her. I think so, my Hilda. 

Hilda. Good Fritz, go call my father. 

Exit Fritz. 

Hilda leads the aged Count tenderly to the 
great chair. He talks as he goes, stopping to 
speak : 

Count O. Hilda, my little Hilda, so much light in 
my old head suddenly. Good, good ! All these 
visions, memories — the old things come back 
as if new things, and new things mix with the 
old things. 

He has come to the chair and sits. Rollo and 
Grun are at side and back. Hilda, at side, 
signs to Herman, who comes and kneels to 
the old man at the other side. The spirit of 
Lady Bertha suddenly appears in the balcony, 
robed in luminous white, and she opens the 
glass doors and enters, invisible to them all, 
carrying a wreath of laurel. Enter Wilbold 
and Fritz, grouping with the others. The old 
Count suddenly takes note of Herman, bends 
forward and gazes into his face. 

Count O. I know you. Memory, memory, mem- 
ory, how it flames ! What a light I am in — and 
it grows brighter. You are Herman — I see 

143 act IV — scene 2 



your grandmother, my Lady Bertha, in your 

face. 
Her. Yes, dear Grandfather, I am Herman. 
Count O. Good, good ! I knew you would come 

— I used to say so — but I forgot — long ago — is 

it very long since I forgot? — very long? 
HiiyDA. No, dear grandsire. 

Count Osmond looks several times at Herman 
and Hilda, from one to the other. 
Count O. Brave boy! dear girl! gallant young 

knight! fair young maid! 

HiiyDA. We are to wed, dear grandsire. 

Count O. Better, better, and better, and best. 

Lady Bertha has crowned with the laurel wreath 
the old Count, and then stands by Herman. All 
look with astonishment on the wreath. 
Wiiv. Mark you that? 

Fritz. Ay, my lord. 

WiL. How comes the wreath upon him out of the 

air, as dew falls? 
Fritz. I know not what to say. There be good 

spirits in the castle. 

Count Osmond sees Lady Bertha, starts, looks 
with all his soul, trembles, grows strong and 
firm again. 

Count O. My lady, oh my lady, my Bertha! 
Her. Doth he wander again ? 
Hilda. Nay, I know not. 
WiL. He thinks he sees the Lady Bertha. 
Hilda. Who knows he sees her not? He is on 
the brink, may he not look over? 

Lady Bertha holds out her arms to him. He 
smiles joyously, lays back his head on the 
chair peacefully, closes his eyes, and is gone. 
Long tableau, and music. 



CURTAIN. 

ACT IV— SCENE 2 144 



LBNlr'12 



A PLA Y IN FOUR A CTS 



THE 



LADY BERTHA'S 



HONEY-BROTH 






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